


Slice of Life

by Anonymous



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, everyone's favorite trope right?, fake pie feuds as a way to express affection, kind of enemies more like vaguely disliked acquaintance tho, lots of pie, some hockey i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-29 14:58:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 76,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8494366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Eric Bittle has just graduated from Samwell University after leading the SMH team to its best season yet when he accepts an offer to join the coaching staff at Samwell for the next year as a coaching assistant. The only real downside is that he has to deal with the moody and unpredictable staff nutritionist, Jack Zimmermann, who has a vendetta against Eric's pies.





	1. Chapter 1

    “I’m pretty sure your mom thinks we’re dating,” Lardo announced as soon as Suzanne disappeared inside the airport terminal. Eric sighed from the driver’s seat and glanced over his shoulder before pulling out into the lane and driving away from the airport.

    “I _know_ she thinks we’re dating,” he confessed with a roll of his eyes. “You would not believe the amount of times she took me aside this weekend to tell me what a ‘lovely girl’ you are.”

    “Didn’t you come out to them like two years ago?” Lardo snorted from where her head was bent over her phone.

    Eric shot her a pained look.

    “Yes,” he said. “I think she’s hoping that you’ve changed my mind.”

    “Fuck, dude,” she said, looking up at him with a frown. “That’s messed up.”

    Eric shrugged, trying not to frown himself.

    “She’s doing her best,” he said.

    Lardo’s frown deepened, but she dropped the subject with another look at Eric’s expression. The rest of the car ride back to their new apartment together was quiet with just the local pop station playing in the background. They were both exhausted from the full week of move-in dramatics and if Eric never had to look at another box full to the brim of stuff he didn’t actually need or want, he would be happy.

    Shitty was waiting for them, mostly naked and sprawled on the couch, when they got back. Eric hadn’t decided yet if he was annoyed that Lardo had given Shitty a key to the place without even asking if it would be okay. He figured it was probably something he should have been prepared for when he had signed the lease with her. Besides, it’s not like he hadn’t lived with Shitty before. They had lived across the hallway in the Haus in Eric’s sophomore year and Eric had seen all there was to see back then.

    “Brah,” Shitty said as soon as they closed the door behind them. “I got you a housewarming gift, but wanted to save it until after your mom left just in case.”

    “Aw, Shitty, you shouldn’t have,” Eric said. “I think she really would have appreciated you putting on some pants.”

    Shitty waved him off but leapt up from the couch and disappeared into Lardo’s room, emerging with a large, slim rectangular package wrapped in brown paper that had one of Lardo’s trademark swirls of pastel paint wrapping around the bottom. He took it gingerly from Shitty and laid it out on the coffee table, pushing aside a few empty cups and a stray computer.

    “What is it?” he asked, peeling away a top corner of the paper to reveal the beginnings of what looked like something solid and black. The paper was double-wrapped and taped to hell and back and Eric couldn’t find a good way to take it off without ripping straight through Lardo’s artwork on the bottom.

    “Just rip it, Bits,” Lardo encouraged from where she had perched on the arm of the couch, obviously seeing his dilemma. She made a slashing motion with her hand and Eric grinned at her, but before he could follow her instructions, Shitty leaned forward and grabbed a corner of the paper, enthusiastically tearing it away. Lardo laughed and Eric made quick work of the rest of the paper. When he turned the frame over to face upwards, however, the laughter died in his throat, replaced instead by a sudden, frightening lump of emotion.

    He looked up wildly at his two friends and they were both grinning eagerly back at him, clearly pleased with themselves. Shitty thumped him on the back before hugging him from the side. Eric couldn’t stop staring at the full-size poster in his lap long enough to protest his nakedness.

    From the sturdy black frame, Eric’s own face stared back at him from a mock-up of a cover of _Outsports_ with the marquee proclaiming “FIRST OPENLY GAY NCAA HOCKEY CAPTAIN LEADS SAMWELL UNIVERSITY TO ITS BEST EVER SEASON FINISH”. _Outsports_ didn’t have a real magazine circulation, of course, but the article and photoshoot had been real enough. It had been an unseasonably cold April day when the photographer had shown up at the Haus to take Eric’s portrait and his cheeks were bitten red by the cold wind as he stood in front of the porch, smiling tentatively at the camera. Samwell had been knocked out of the semi-finals two days before that photograph and the loss was still fresh on everyone’s mind, but Eric had promised the interview long before they knew they were even going to the playoffs and felt like he couldn’t back out by the time it rolled around.

    It had turned out well enough, but Eric still felt a complicated twinge of anxiety and pride when he thought about it. Even though he had played his last game for Samwell, the interview had made waves. It had felt strange to Eric being hailed for being brave for coming out by so many strangers since for all intents and purposes, he had been out of the closet to his team and friends since his Freshman year and he’d come out to his family after a particularly miserable Christmas break his Junior year. The article was picked up by Twitter and then shared so many times it still made him dizzy. His vlog and personal Twitter had blown up right after the article had come out too and he was still adjusting to the expanded audience that had come with his unexpected moment of fame. The response had been overwhelmingly positive, although many of the uglier comments still made it across his newsfeed and had burrowed under his skin in a way that the warm and welcoming responses never quite could.

    “We thought you could put it up in your new office at Faber,” Lardo explained.

    “Show those motherfucking freshmen who they’re dealing with,” Shitty said with gusto.

    Eric laughed, thinking of the small closet-like room he’d been given as an office at Faber. It was barely big enough to hold the desk they had scrounged up for him and the walls would need to be used for calendars and game strategy.

    “I don’t think it will fit there,” he said. “Besides, if they disrespect me, I’ll just make them do suicides until they puke.”

    Shitty looked momentarily crestfallen, then with a quick look over to Lardo that Eric almost missed, he brightened. Lardo disappeared from the doorjamb, padding down the hallway out of sight.

    “In your bedroom, then!” he announced and swung up from the couch again, grabbing the overlarge frame from Eric’s hands.

    “My bedroom?” Eric asked, following him down the hall. “Why in the world would I need that in my bedroom?”

    “Bitty, my man,” Shitty said. “So you can wake up every day and be immediately reminded of what a badass you are.”

    Eric continued to protest, but Shitty was too busy examining his walls for the best place to hang the frame to listen.

    “Lards, I’m gonna need a hammer and nails,” he yelled as he held the frame up against the wall directly opposite of the bed. Lardo appeared in the doorway as though she had been waiting to be summoned and together they made short work of hanging the portrait. Eric could do nothing but watch as they decorated his bedroom, thinking vaguely that this had been their plan all along. Shitty turned back to him where he had collapsed on his bed to watch and said, “You know, Bitty, I think this is even better because now when you bring some fine gentleman home, he’ll know that you’re famous _and_ good at stick handling.”

    “Shitty,” Eric groaned and fell back on the bed, face burning. “That is so not happening. That thing is going in the closet long before any date of mine sees it.”

    “I might be mistaken, Lards, but that sounds like Bitty has someone in mind when he says date,” Shitty said.

    “Oh, he definitely does,” Lardo said, smirking. Eric shot her a glare that he hoped telegraphed how much they were _not talking_ about that particular someone in front of Shitty. She waited until Shitty had turned away from her before winking at Eric.

    The bed creaked as Shitty sat down next to Eric and Eric gave him a deathly glare.

    “Put pants on or get off my bed,” he ordered. Shitty sighed dramatically but slowly pulled himself back up from the bed. Lardo was watching the entire scene unfold from the doorway where she leaned casually and he sauntered over to her to give her a kiss on the forehead, before turning back to Eric.

    “So, who is it, Bits, my boy?” Shitty said. “What young gentleman has caught your eye?”

    “No one,” Eric grumbled. He grabbed a pillow and threw it over his face, but Shitty pried it loose a moment later, grinning down at him.

    “Please tell me you’re finally ready to date that Canadian Adonis Jack Zimmermann,” he said. “It is a tragedy that you’re letting that man go to waste. Take one for the team, Bits.”

    Eric wrinkled his nose involuntarily, frowning at Shitty. He sat up and grabbed the pillow back.

    “Jack Zimmermann is an ass and I would never date him,” Eric said primly. He had a carefully tended list of the several and varied ways that Jack had insulted his pies and person over the last year since Jack had been hired on as Samwell University Athletics’ staff nutritionist. He didn’t anticipate letting any of those insults go, even if they were officially colleagues now starting next week.

    “No matter how dreamy his eyes are?” Lardo asked, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. Eric opened his mouth to respond, but then thinking better of it, snapped it shut. Teasing about Jack was better than the alternative at the moment, so it was better to let this one go. Jack was so far out of the realm of possibilities that it seemed safe enough to joke about.

    “God, you two would make beautiful babies,” Shitty said wistfully. Eric squinted at him from the bed and then pushed himself up, putting the pillows back in order.

    “You realize that that’s biologically impossible, right?” he asked.

    “I think the scientists would make an exception for you two,” Shitty said.

    Lardo snorted.

    “You’ve met him like twice, Shitty,” Eric said as flatly as he could, trying not to laugh at the ridiculously starstruck expression that Shitty was wearing. “You’ve barely exchanged ten words.”

    “That’s all I needed to know that he was going to be the love of your life, Bits,” Shitty said, putting a hand to his forehead as though he were about to have a fainting spell. “I can just sense these things, you know?”

    “Oh, yeah, you’re a real romance guru,” Lardo interrupted, herding Shitty from the room. “It only took you five years to ask me out on a date.”

 

\--

 

    “I hope you don’t seriously plan on feeding your players this way once pre-season starts,” Jack Zimmermann himself gruffly proclaimed the next morning almost as soon as Eric set down a freshly baked peach cobbler on the conference room table. Eric sniffed at him and produced the plates he had rummaged up from the staff kitchen to set next to the cobbler, but before he could think of a witty comeback, Coach Hall slapped him on the back and interrupted.

    “Bittle, come meet some of the other coaches,” Hall said loudly, nodding his greeting to Jack before steering Eric away to the other end of the room where several of the other senior coaches sat. Hall introduced him around to those that Eric had never met and Eric made a note to learn all of their names later. He might need flashcards. He had no idea there were this many coaches at Samwell, but he supposed it made sense. He’d just been so wrapped up in hockey that he’d never met any of them outside of the handful that regularly came to games.

    One of the cross country coaches, Shields, who had dared to take the first slice of cobbler, called out his thanks to Eric from across the room and Eric settled back in his chair, satisfied. He threw a glowering expression in Jack’s direction, but Jack wasn’t paying him any attention, absorbed in a conversation with one of the tennis coaches. Which was fine. Totally fine. Eric preferred being ignored by Jack, in fact. He was not going to let Jack Zimmermann, Registered Dietician, and his stupid opinions about baked goods ruin this perfectly good day anyways. He had thanked his lucky stars everyday since graduation that Jack no longer had any right to comment on his meal choices and ask, “Pie again, Bittle?” like it wasn’t a perfectly good choice to refuel after a hard game.

    And okay, fine, Eric didn’t _just_ eat pie after a hard game and maybe if he ate a little more protein, he could have put on a few more pounds of muscle, but _honestly_ he really had tried to eat the diet prescribed to him. If he snuck in a few more pieces of pie than recommended, why did it matter so much to Jack? It’s not like Eric had ever had any pretensions of heading to the NHL or even the AHL. He was a good hockey player and a natural on the ice, but he’d only started playing a few years before college and although he could skate circles around most D-men, he would never be big enough to pass muster in the NHL. (Even if he had put protein powder into every conceivable liquid that he drank.) He had been thankful when the opportunity to become a coaching assistant for the team came up over the summer, but he didn’t have any illusions about why he got the job. He already knew the team inside and out, so he was a good fit for Hall and Murray as the team went through major transitions with an influx of a large freshman roster.

    “So, Bittle, are you going to be living here in Samwell or commuting from Boston?” one of the assistant football coaches, Evans, leaned across the table to ask him. Evans was on the younger side, probably in his late twenties and too tan for it to have been from the Massachusetts summer. He was easily 6’4”, towering over the heads of the men around them, even sitting down. Eric had met him once or twice at a few games last year and he had always seemed nice enough.

    “Uh, I found a place with a friend of mine right on the rail line up in Boston, so I’ll be riding in,” Eric said.

    Evans nodded.

    “Yeah, it’s hard to find a good place here in Samwell that isn’t a family home or student housing. Not much in between,” Evans said.

    “Exactly,” Eric said. Lardo had been living in a run-down group house with two other recent graduates before they had started looking for a place together and it had taken them almost two months to find the small two bedroom basement apartment they’d finally settled on. “It’ll be weird though, not to live in Samwell after four years.”

    Evans smiled agreeably and Eric refused to notice the cute dimples that appeared on his tan cheeks.

    “It’s an adjustment, for sure,” he said. “I graduated from Tulane four years ago, you know?”

    Eric made a note to revise Evans’ age downwards in his head. Before he could ask anything further though, he was interrupted by a booming voice calling the room to attention.

    “Alright, everyone, settle down,” Coach Warren said as he walked in. Warren was a tall, imposing man with gray hair and mustache who looked as though someone had taken a normal sized man and stretched him too tall and thin. The chatter in the room took another minute to die out, but eventually everyone was at least pretending to pay attention to Warren. It was the first all-athletics staff meeting of the year and Eric felt a sudden low-grade excitement to be there. He hadn’t yet experienced one and he’d only had meetings with Hall and Murray all summer.

    His excitement fizzled quickly when it became clear that the meeting was going to be mostly about quibbling over who got to use what facility when and for how long. He couldn’t say he wasn’t warned by Murray, but he still thought there would be a little more glamour to whole “First Staff Meeting” thing. It didn’t feel all that different from Haus meetings, except of course, for the noticeable absence of beer.

    “Last item on the agenda today - we’re running out of time before students come back for camps, but I thought we could squeeze in the annual back-to-school staff barbeque next Sunday unless that’s controversial?” Warren let the question hang in the room, but no one seemed inclined to disagree with him. Eric thought half the room might be asleep, but just very good at faking being awake.

      “Your enthusiasm is heart-warming, folks,” Warren said drily, seeming to agree with Eric’s silent assessment. “I’ll send around a sign-up list later this week for the potluck so you guys can all skedaddle for today. Any other business we need to discuss?”

    There was an audible sigh of relief when no one spoke up and Warren dismissed them a moment later. Eric lingered to collect his cobbler pan, but had to wait for several stragglers to grab pieces before they left. With a small note of satisfaction, he saw the tennis coach that Jack had been chatting with break off from him to grab the last piece for herself. Eric knew it wasn’t really anything, but he counted it as a small victory anyways and couldn’t help throwing a smirk in Jack’s direction as he packed up the empty tin and left.

   

 

\--

 

**Episode 6.02 - Moomaw’s Peach Cobbler Secrets**

 

[ _Hey y’all! Hope you’re all having a great summer! As you may or may not remember, I have taken a coaching assistant job at my alma mater, Samwell. This summer, I’ve been learning all the insider scoop of team scheduling and management since I’ll be handling all of that on top of helping the team with conditioning and speed on the ice. Whew! It’s been a lot of work! But I know y’all don’t follow me for that, so this week, let’s talk about how to make the perfect peach cobbler. Now, good peaches are so dang hard to find up here in Massachusetts, even in season, but luckily I went home last week and roadtripped back up with my mama and a U-Haul for my new apartment and we snuck a few crates of peaches in the cab with us._

 _I gotta tell you - I was so excited to bring in some peach cobbler to a meeting this morning with all the athletics staff and wouldn’t you know it that a certain Nutritionist-Who-Will-Not-Be-Named had to spoil the fun with his “I hope you don’t feed your players that, Bittle.” Ugh, I really thought that he would back off now that we’re both staff, y’know? But no, he’s still as much of an ass as always..._ ]

 

\--

 

    “Are you going to surprise me by bringing real food or should I just put you down for pie, Bittle?” Jack asked, leaning against the side of the treadmill as Eric finished up his run. Eric huffed at him and then turned the speed down so he could talk. He saw Jack flick a judgmental look at his distance but he didn’t care. Today was an off-day anyways - he’d only come in for a run because he was getting stir-crazy in his new apartment and he couldn’t think of what else to do. Everyone was either still gone for the summer or swamped with their own work.

    “I’ll have you know,” Eric said as soon as he found his voice again. He was still running but more slowly. “That pies are _very_ real. Thank you very much, Mr. Zimmermann.”

    Jack was holding a clipboard with a neatly labelled grid of names and foodstuffs for Warren’s End of Summer BBQ. He tapped his pen against the clipboard and sighed at Eric. Eric wasn’t sure who thought it was a good idea to put the uptight nutritionist in charge of the potluck sign-ups, but he did not appreciate their foresight.

    “You know what I meant, Bittle,” he said.

    Eric blinked at him, frowned and then turned back to the display on his treadmill before hitting the STOP button with more force than necessary. The tread beneath him lurched to a halt and Eric hopped off. He regretted it instantly - he always forgot that he was nearly a head shorter than Jack. He expected to be shorter than all of his teammates (now students, he reminded himself), but usually he could at least count on being average around everyone else. Jack looked down at him and Eric took an unplanned moment to admire the broadness of his shoulders and the way Jack’s heather gray henley stretched too tight across his biceps. He shook himself and focused instead on the clipboard in Jack’s hands.

    “For your information, I fully intended on bringing a very healthy casserole,” Eric said. He had not, in fact, been intending on doing any such thing, but Jack always inspired him to say the worst things.

    Jack harrumphed at him as though he knew Eric was lying, but he wrote it down on his clipboard anyways. Eric waited until he looked back up before adding, “And two pies.”

    Impossibly, Jack’s mouth quirked into a half-smile. Eric thought, with a minor heart palpitation, that it might be the first time Jack had ever smiled at him at all in the year that they had known each other. Jack generally wasn’t the type of person to go around smiling at people though. He seemed to prefer scowling and gruff, borderline rude conversation.

    “What kind of casserole?” Jack asked, sidestepping Eric’s comment about the pies.

    “Chicken primavera,” Eric said quickly. Jack’s mouth twitched again, this time almost a full smile.

    “Like the one you made at Branson’s retirement party?” he asked.

    Eric was momentarily taken aback. Branson’s retirement party had been almost nine months ago - it had to have been one of the first events at Samwell that Jack had even attended. Jack had been hired at the beginning of Eric’s senior year as the athletics staff nutritionist and took a while to warm up to even the other staff members, as far as Eric could tell. Eric’s only memory of Jack at that particular party had been of an uncomfortable stranger sipping juice in the corner and looking wildly confused every time someone came up to introduce themselves. He had gotten better, but only just.

    “Um, yeah,” Eric agreed. “With some adjustments.”

    “Oh?” Jack said. “I, um, I liked it.”

    Eric blinked at him. He was wondering if this was some sort of trap, but he couldn’t see Jack’s endgame if it was.

    “You gonna ask me what flavor pies too?”

    Jack chuckled. He actually laughed. Eric looked around to see if anyone else was a witness to what had just happened, but the gym was empty. Even the desk attendant, usually a bored student worker stuck at Samwell for the summer, had abandoned post. He couldn’t believe his luck. No one was ever going to believe him.

    “You can surprise me, eh?” Jack said. Eric nodded dumbly and before he could say anything else, Jack tucked the clipboard under his arm and left.

 

\--

 

**Episode 6.03 - Lemon Custard Pie  
**

 

[ _...Y’all, something so strange happened last week that I still feel like I completely dreamed it up. I have no proof! It’s drivin’ me crazy, but I swear on my Moomaw’s grave that the Nutritionist-Who-Will-Not-Be-Named was nice to me. He even laughed at something I said! I feel like I was momentarily transported to an alternate dimension where he’s actually a human being and not a nutrition robot. We were talking about pie, y’all. And he_ **_laughed_ ** _. It was so weird…_ ]

 

\--

 

           The night of the End of Summer BBQ was warm and muggy, reminding Eric of home even though the heat was nowhere near comparable. He’d tried to talk Lardo into coming with him that night, but it was her first night off all week so he didn’t begrudge her for not coming. Or at least, not much.

           She had at least let him borrow her car for the night so he didn’t have to worry about train departure times. It would have been a nightmare and a half to take the three pie boxes and the casserole on the train by himself anyways. None of them were particularly heavy, but it was awkward and near impossible to carry them all at once. When he finally pulled up to Coach Warren’s huge, two-story house it was late in the afternoon already and he was at least half an hour late because of traffic from the city, so when he saw the back of someone’s head lurking behind another car in the driveway, he called out.

           “Hey, would you mind giving me a hand?” he shouted and the person turned in his direction. Eric had half-lifted his hand in a wave before he realized it was Jack. He just barely managed not to frown at him, instead pasting a too-wide smile that he hoped didn’t read as false. “Oh, hey! Didn’t realize that was you.”

           “Still want my help?” Jack asked, with a slight edge of amusement in his voice. He ducked between two sedans and was at Eric’s side in a few long strides, peering into Lardo’s small compact. “Make too many pies to carry yourself?”

           “Everyone except you will be thrilled,” Eric said.

           Jack did that strange half-smile again but held out his arms obediently for Eric to laden with pies. Eric reached inside the car and emerged with two boxes, but hesitated before setting them down in Jack’s waiting arms.

           “Should I be worried about sabotage, Mr. Zimmermann?” he asked, only half-joking.

           Jack smiled more fully this time and took the pie boxes gently from Eric’s clutches, holding them with exaggerated care.

           “Cross my heart they will arrive safely to the kitchen,” Jack said softly. Eric cracked a genuine smile at the surprisingly earnest tone and Jack took another peek into the car. “Do you have the rest or do we need to make a second trip?”

           “I can handle it,” Eric said, waving him away.

           Jack waited until Eric had an armful of casserole and pie himself and then led the way inside. It occurred to Eric as he followed him in that Jack must have been here several times before as he easily navigated through the open front door to the kitchen in the back of the house that opened up into a bright, sunlit patio and expansive backyard. It was the kind of kitchen that made Eric ache for a house of his own instead of a cramped, shared apartment. The wide island counter was already laden with several covered dishes, but there was room for Eric’s casserole. Jack set his two pies down on another counter and Eric joined him with the third.

           “I thought you said two pies,” Jack said, nodding at the third box.

           Eric shrugged.

           “I couldn’t decide between apple and peach, so I decided to make both,” he said.

           “And the third?”

           “Lemon custard,” Eric said. “Nice and summery.”

           Jack hummed in what might have been agreement. He knocked his knuckles on the counter next to Eric and was about to say something when the sliding door to the backyard opened and a stream of people came inside.

           “Eric Bittle!” Sandra Murray called out, waving at him. “I hope you brought plenty of pie because I have been dreaming about it all week.”

           Eric couldn’t resist throwing a smirk Jack’s way and this time, Jack caught his expression and rolled his eyes in acknowledgment. Eric turned back to Sandra and chatted with her easily, losing track of Jack after that for several hours.

           Eric felt as though he had talked to every single person at the party by the time he saw Jack again. He had just been given a plateful of sausage and potato salad and found himself with Murray and a few of the other coaches when Evans waved Jack over to their table and struck up a conversation. Eric wasn’t sure when that particular conversation turned to the Stanley Cup, but it caught everyone’s attention at the table. It had been a rough final series that year, with the Aces eking out a win in game seven over the Devils. Jack seemed distinctly uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going, but continued to answer Evans’ questions politely.

    “So, do you keep up with Parson? I heard you guys were close when you were kids?” Evans asked. “What’s that like - to know a guy who won the Cup?”

    “Evans, you’re embarrassing yourself,” Murray yelled from down the table, interjecting before Jack could say anything. “Zimmermann and Parson weren’t sandbox buddies, they played together in Junior League right up until the draft.”

    Eric winced at the topic. Jack’s history as a hockey prodigy was not exactly a secret around Samwell, but it felt taboo to mention it so casually to everyone at the party. Eric had never heard Jack talk about his past at all, although he knew plenty about him, thanks to extensive “Hockey History” lessons from Ransom and Holster who had about died of jealousy when they heard that Jack had been hired on at Samwell after they’d graduated. They had come to an impressive amount of games last year, despite med school and a busy internship, in hopes of meeting him, but Eric didn’t think that Jack came to many hockey games these days.

    Jack’s face was wiped clean of expression when Eric looked back at him, but no one else seemed to have noticed the strange moment, except perhaps Murray. Jack’s voice was unfailingly polite when he cleared his throat and said quietly, “Yeah, it was great to see Parse win again this year. He worked hard for it. The whole team did.”

    The conversation flowed from there and no one else besides Eric seemed to notice when Jack left the table a moment later with a mumbled excuse about getting more beer. He waited a full minute for Jack to re-emerge from the house before giving in to his curiosity and going inside. Jack was alone in the kitchen, arms braced on the counter and faced away from the patio when Eric slipped inside. He started at the noise of the door sliding shut and frowned at Eric before his expression retreated into neutrality.

    For a split second, Eric thought about making up an excuse for why he had come inside, but something about Jack’s expression, guarded and careful, was enough to convince him not to. Instead, he drifted over to the counter and rested his arms on it, leaning across the island towards where Jack was standing.

    “You know, I’m not sure what all is going on,” Eric said, then paused, doubting himself. Jack looked up from where he had been staring down at the counter and Eric plunged onward, galvanized. “And I don’t need to. You don’t have to tell me anything. It’s just...I mean, I think that there’s not much in life that a slice of pie can’t improve on and you seem to be having a bad night.”

     Jack let out a puff of air in obvious disbelief, but to Eric’s surprise he didn’t decline the implicit offer. Eric hustled to grab a plate and his hand hovered over the remaining pie tins, deciding on a flavor, but after a moment of deliberation, he went with apple. _Classic and comforting_ , he thought to himself before handing the plate to Jack.

     Jack took it and looked at the fork thoughtfully before taking a large piece of pie and shoveling it in his mouth. He made a soft noise of approval that caused Eric an inordinate amount of satisfaction. He resisted the urge to preen, but just barely.

    “This is really good,” Jack said as he took several more bites in rapid succession.

    Eric scoffed, which made Jack give him the approximation of a smile before the frown slid back on his face and his fork paused, mid-bite.

    “You want another piece?” Eric asked with the quirk of an eyebrow, gesturing at Jack’s almost empty plate. “Sometimes it takes a double dose.”

    Jack hesitated a moment, but then shook his head, setting the plate aside. Eric caught the quick flick of his tongue to lick crumbs from his mouth and a jolt of unwelcome attraction shot through him. _You are not attracted to Jack Zimmermann_ , he reminded himself sternly. _No matter how sad his pretty blue eyes get._

“Better not,” Jack said finally. “But I can see why it was so hard to convince your teammates to stop putting away pie like it was a vegetable last year.”

    Eric couldn’t help but feel proud at the compliment buried in that statement. They didn’t say anything for a long moment, neither of them looking at each other directly.

    “Thanks,” Jack said. “For letting me have a slice. I think it really did help.”

    “Pie is good for that sort of thing,” Eric said solemnly.

    Jack looked for a moment like he wanted to say something further, but then shook his head. He grabbed his plate and fork and tossed them into a trash can at the end of the counter before casting a look outside. It was almost dusk by now, but plenty of people still milled around outside, their voices buzzing loudly even through the glass doors.

    “I think I’m going to head out,” Jack said. “I’ll see you around, okay, Bittle?”

    “Sure thing, Mr. Zimmermann,” Eric said, as lightly as he could. “It’s my job to herd the freshmen to your seminar on Tuesday, so I’ll see you then.”

    “You can call me Jack, you know,” he said. His brow was furrowed into an unreadable look, head tilted to the side as though he were trying to figure Eric out. Eric looked away again, focusing on his shoes instead of the intense, focused gaze of Jack Zimmermann.

    “Oh, um, right,” Eric stumbled and then before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “Most people call me Bitty.”

    Jack huffed another laugh at that, which brought Eric’s head back up. Jack’s face had a loose smile on it that Eric had never seen before.   

    “I’ll probably stick to Bittle.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dex comes to dinner, Eric meets the freshmen, and Jack gives Eric some unsolicited advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note: I decided to make Whiskey and Tango frogs here, even though the timeline would be wrong because hey! that's fun! and Tango is adorable. For right now, Bitty calls him Tony, but the nickname will come.

    Dex was late to dinner. It was such a rare occurrence for him to be late to anything at all that Eric had to wonder if it was reluctance to come. Or maybe it was just traffic.

    “Do you think he got lost?” Lardo asked as she grabbed a beer for herself from the fridge. Eric declined the one she offered him before turning back to the stove. He tossed the stir-fry and then set the wooden spoon down before shrugging at Lardo.

“I told him to call if he couldn’t find the door,” Eric said.

“Maybe he couldn’t find a fucking parking spot,” Shitty offered from the couch where he was sprawled watching some show on Netflix about artists during the Vietnam War. Eric suspected the movie choice was mostly for Lardo’s benefit, but it was always hard to tell between the two of them. 

“I think he was taking the train and then catching a bus,” Eric said. “I gave him the right lines. I hope he didn’t get on the wrong bus. He definitely would have texted about that, right?”

Before anyone could say answer, there was a sharp rap on the door. Eric wiped his hands on his apron and handed Lardo the wooden spoon so she had responsibility for the still simmering stir-fry. She poked at it experimentally and Eric rolled his eyes before going to answer the door. 

Dex was on the other side, hand poised to knock again right as Eric opened the door. He was dressed in a worn Samwell t-shirt and khaki shorts, his long legs pale and wiry in the fading daylight behind him. He dropped his hand immediately and it hung awkwardly by his side until he stuffed it in his pocket and he smiled tightly at Eric. Eric smiled back as casually as he could. Things had been decidedly awkward between them at the end of last semester and he had hoped a summer apart would have dissipated the feeling, but apparently not. 

“Hey Bitty, sorry I’m late,” Dex apologized, looking a bit sheepish despite the edge in his voice. His hand flew out of his pocket to gesture wildly in the air like he often did when he was already worked up into a state about something. “I missed the first bus by a few minutes, so I had to wait forever for another to come and I kept thinking I was almost here so I didn’t text.”

Eric opened the door wider and ushered him inside. Dex waved to Shitty who had gotten up from the couch to crowd into the foyer. Eric closed the door behind him, not wanting to let any more of the muggy night air inside. 

“Don’t worry about it at all,” he said, patting Dex on the arm on his way back to the kitchen. “Dinner’s not ready yet anyways and we’ve got plenty of night left.”

“Poindexter, my man!” Shitty shouted. “Look at you, all grown up and captaining our little hockey team!”

    A moment later Dex was enveloped in a huge bear hug from Shitty that Eric sidestepped neatly. He ducked into the kitchen before Shitty got any ideas about including him and let out a long breath, shaking some of tension out of his shoulders. Lardo smirked at him before handing the wooden spoon back and going outside the kitchen to greet Dex with her customary, laid-back, “Hey.”

    When Dex had been named Eric’s successor as Captain, Eric had been relieved. He had thought that the vote might be split between Dex and Nursey and they would have to share the title, but thankfully, it had tipped in Dex’s favor. Not that Nursey wouldn’t have been an alright Captain, but there was no way in hell that they could have shared the responsibility. Eric had been ready to make the case to Hall and Murray that they had to choose one or neither for the C, but luckily Dex had been elected by a slim margin. 

“Hey, uh, can I help you with anything in here?” Dex said from behind him a few minutes later. Eric looked up to see him looming uncertainly in the open hallway. Eric reached over to turn the stove off and then set the wok on a waiting potholder. He untied his apron and slipped it over his head before hanging it on the hook of the pantry. 

“I’m just about done here. You wanna grab some bowls from the cupboard next to the fridge?” Eric asked as he checked the rice cooker. If there was one thing he truly loved about living with Lardo again, it was access to her top-of-the-line rice cooker. He had missed it in the past year after living with it in the Haus for a brief, but glorious year. Dex grabbed four bowls obediently and observed the wok full of vegetables and chicken with an appreciative eye.

“Shitty told me that Zimmermann finally got to you,” Dex said, following it with a sly smile that told Eric he was joking. “But I had to see it to believe with my own eyes.”

“Don’t get too excited,” Eric said. “Lardo’s been teaching me how to make sweet dumplings all week and I have plenty of samples ready for dessert.”

Dex patted his stomach mournfully.

“Bitty, you know I can’t,” he groaned.

“That’s what you say now.” Eric smirked and then poking his head around the corner, he yelled above the din of the TV, “Hey, y’all, food’s ready. Come serve yourselves.”

Shitty and Lardo crashed into the kitchen and after everyone had served themselves, they jockeyed for spots on the couch while Eric took the armchair. Dex ended up with the spot closest to Eric and he angled towards him, engaging him with serious, thoughtful questions about pre-season all night as Lardo’s documentary played in the background. Shitty bounced back and forth between watching the movie and interjecting into the hockey talk. 

    Before he left for the night, Dex stood and with the tips of his ears red with obvious embarrassment, he turned to Eric and asked if they could speak alone. Lardo raised a single eyebrow at Eric from behind Dex’s back, but didn’t comment before turning back to the TV. Shitty, however, was craning his neck over the back of the couch to shoot looks between Lardo and Eric and then Dex, a small smile growing steadily underneath his mustache. Eric waved Dex into his bedroom before Shitty could interrupt with something ridiculous and gave Shitty a pointed glare as soon as Dex had turned his back on him. Shitty grinned in response and pointed at his eyes before turning the fingers back to Eric in an _ I’m watching you  _ gesture. 

    Eric followed Dex into the bedroom and hovered in the open door for a moment before thinking better of it and shutting the door behind him. Dex stood in the middle of the cluttered room, hands stuffed into his pockets, staring at the poster on his wall. The poster of Eric on the cover of  _ Outsports  _ was grinning back him. The real Eric wanted to kick himself. He had meant to take it down before Dex came over for dinner. Of all the things to forget. 

    “Uh...Shitty put that there,” Eric explained hastily. “His idea of a housewarming gift.”

    Dex nodded as if that was a reasonable explanation and Eric noticed that the red flush had spread from the tips of his freckled ears to the back of his neck. He felt a pang of what was maybe pity in his chest and he bit his lip before clasping his hands behind his back. 

    “What’s up, Dex?” he finally prompted after another long moment. “Is something wrong?”

“No! Uh - no, nothing’s wrong,” Dex said quickly as though he had been waiting for Eric to ask. Dex’s entire face was now flushed red and he waved his hand a little pointlessly, obviously uncomfortable. Eric politely ignored it. Dex shuffled his feet for another moment longer, before he looked up and with a pained expression, said, “I wanted to make sure we were cool.”

It was Eric’s turn to shift uncomfortably from side to side. 

“Of course we are,” Eric said neutrally after a moment.

“I mean, after what happened last semester,” Dex said, pushing a little harder against what they weren’t talking about. Eric resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

“Nothing happened, Dex,” Eric said. He bit the inside of his cheek sharply to keep himself from saying anything else. Dex looked like he hoped that Eric would, but instead he stuffed his hand back in his pockets and slouched his shoulders. Eric bit down a little harder, tasting blood.

“Right,” Dex agreed, because it wasn’t untrue. Nothing had happened, ultimately. There had been a _ moment _ in the kitchen a few weeks before graduation where Eric had been running on fumes and Dex had been just on the wrong side of tipsy, but they had been interrupted by a certain Derek Nurse before the  _ moment  _ had developed into a  _ something _ . (Eric had been never been so grateful for Nursey’s clumsiness in his life. Dex had been surly and withdrawn for the rest of the semester and on into the summer. They had never directly spoken of it.)

Dex squared his shoulders and glanced again at the poster of Eric’s magazine cover on the wall. Eric cursed Shitty out in his head for the stupid thing and made a mental note to get Shitty an equally embarrassing housewarming gift, if at all possible. 

“I’m glad you’ll still be around this semester,” Dex said finally. The words were halting and awkward.

“Me too,” Eric said carefully. “If you need any advice or just a sounding board, I’m just a phone call away. They even gave me a little office at Faber.”

Dex nodded and rubbed the back of his neck before offering a small smile. Eric was thankful to notice that Dex’s blush was receding back to normal thresholds. 

“It’ll be weird, you know?” Dex said. “Not having you in the Haus anymore.”

Eric laughed and lightly socked Dex in the shoulder. He felt some of the tension between them dissipate with the contact and breathed an internal sigh of relief. They could make this work with minimal awkwardness - he was sure of it. Whatever that  _ moment _ had been last semester didn’t matter anymore now that Eric had graduated and Dex was Captain and they had plenty of other, more important things to think about this year. Or at least, Eric hoped they did. 

    “Well, you’re welcome over here anytime,” he said to Dex. “I still gotta teach you how to properly knead and not pummel the dough, but I think I’ll make a baker out of you yet.”

 

\--

 

    The moment the door closed behind Dex later that night, Shitty let a long, “Brooooooo.”

    Eric sighed.

    “How long has that been going on?” Shitty asked

“I don’t know what you mean,” Eric said and bustled his way into the kitchen to begin to throw some dishes in the sink. Shitty took up the station beside him with a dish towel.

“Alright, alright, it’s fine if you don’t want to tell me about your secret admirers, Bits,” Shitty said, taking a wet plate as Eric handed it to him. “But, c’mon, you gotta admit, he’s kind of a good catch, huh, buddy?”

Eric groaned at the very intentional pun on Dex’s summertime job.

“It’s not like that,” he said and went back to scrubbing dishes with a vengeance, hoping against all reason that that would be the end of it. Shitty opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t have a chance to ask anything else before Lardo cut him off from her perch atop the counter next to him.

“He has scouts after him,” she said sharply and Shitty’s mouth snapped shut, his expression clouding. Eric could feel a lecture coming from a mile away and he levelled Shitty with a glare, shoving a still dripping plate into his hands. 

“ _ And _ ,” Eric added, his words dripping with annoyance that he was too tired to hide. “As far as he has expressed to us,  _ his trusted friends _ , there’s nothing going on.”

Lardo and Shitty exchange a glance that Eric only just caught. He felt a spike of annoyance at them, knowing that no matter what he said, Dex would be a topic of conversation between the two of them later. As if they really knew what they were talking about anyways. Eric slammed a pot angrily against the side of sink and scrubbed it with more gusto than necessary. Shitty cleared his throat and Eric frowned over at him before handing him the pot to dry.

“So, do Murray and Hall anticipate any trouble with Nursey?” Shitty asked after a long, awkward silence. 

Eric shrugged, allowing the obvious subject change as gracefully as he could. He dried his hands on a spare hand towel and turned around so he could lean against the counter. Shitty dried the last plate and headed to the fridge to grab a beer. He tossed one to Lardo without asking and after tipping one in Eric’s direction, he brought two back over to where Eric was standing, popping the top off before giving one to Eric.

“It’s hard to say,” Eric said carefully. There had, in fact, been several tense discussions about the Nurse/Poindexter situation when it became clear that they were the two contenders for the C after Eric graduated. “Nursey will have the A so that should soothe his ego a little, but you know how those two are. It’s a little more good-natured these days, but they still drive each other up a wall.”

“Poor Chowder,” Lardo said, raising her beer in mock salute. Eric cheered her with his own beer in silent agreement from across the kitchen. 

 

\--

 

**Episode 6.04 - Beef Empanadas**

 

[  _ Whew! Long time no talk, everyone! Thanks for being so patient as I got all my ducks in a row for the new semester starting soon! It is so weird being on the other side of it, but I know it’s gonna be a great year. The frogs - that’s freshmen to all y’all who don’t know - arrive tomorrow and we have them for a full day of orientation and such before Tuesday when the rest of the team arrives and we actually start getting on the ice. I’m in charge of making sure they make it to all of the seminars and orientation stuff this week and I just know it’ll be exhausting. Thank God, Dex will be around to help. I have a really good feeling about him being Captain. I mean, I know he has big shoes to fill and all, but....I think he’ll be great.  _

_ Now that I’m done preening, I was thinking about a great, simple food that I could make to keep everyone energized and ready to go for practice and what’s better than an empanada? It’s got a bit of everything and you can mix up the fillings to keep everyone happy! They’re great little, snack-sized protein packs and I think you’ll love how easy they are to make!  Now for the dough, I want you to use my basic pie crust recipe... ] _

  
  


\--

 

    “Alright, everyone, don’t bother with pads or gear today, just get on the ice as soon as possible,” Eric said, clapping his hands together as he addressed the six freshmen recruits for the Samwell Men’s Hockey team late tuesday morning. Before Eric could say anything else, there was a hand in the air. He turned to the boy in question and tried not to sigh. 

    “Yes, Tony?” 

    “Should we put our skates on?” the boy asked in a tone that was either completely sincere or devastatingly sarcastic. Eric couldn’t decide yet, even after three hours of meetings with him that morning and all day the day before.

    “Yes, Tony, please put your skates on before hitting the ice,” Eric said, choosing his words carefully just in case. There was a snicker from the other side of the room, but Eric didn’t see who it was before there was a general shuffle of movement to get going. He let his shoulders drop a little before clapping his hands together again and pulling his own skates on quickly so he could beat them to the ice.

    Eric hated that he was shorter than every single one of the frogs this year, but as they joined him one by one out on the ice, he squared his shoulders and put on his best impression of Coach’s expression that he used to get when barking at his football players early in the morning. It seemed to do the trick. Murray gave him a discreet thumbs up from where he was watching the practice in the bleachers and Eric gave him a tight smile back before turning on the frogs. 

    “We’re just going to be doing some basic drills today so I can see where you are,” Eric started. He had practiced the speech in his office that morning, not that anyone needed to know that. “I hope you all have kept up with your conditioning over the summer, because if not, I will know pretty quickly. We’re going to having practices dedicated to speed and control on the ice twice a week outside of your normal practice times until season starts. It is mandatory for you all, even though it’s optional for the rest of the team, so don’t go getting any ideas about skipping.”

    The frogs looked sufficiently cowed by that. Tony was nodding seriously at the end of the line.

    “Okay!” Eric continued. “Let’s get started with some warm-up laps around the rink and then I’ll talk you through the first drill.”

    He had them practice basic edge control and speed drills for the next hour, taking notes on each of them as they either wobbled and glided through each figure eight and circle. They were all fair skaters, but it was obvious they were going to need some extra help to get up to par with the rest of the team. Frogs always did. The season would be longer and the players bigger and faster than they were used to from high school and they always had to play catch up if they wanted any hope of ice time. They were finishing up practice when Eric had them do one last pass-through of the cones using a one-legged maneuver he’d taught them earlier. 

    “This stuff is for kids,” one of the freshman muttered, just within earshot of Eric. Eric had his back turned, so he couldn’t check to see who said it, but he bristled all the same. He swallowed the snarky response that rose immediately to his lips and instead blew his whistle to bring practice to a close. Murray waved from the sidelines and Eric nodded to him.

“Alright, everyone, great skating out there this morning,” Eric said. “Before you hit the showers, Coach Murray wants a few words. Don’t forget we’ll all be going together for lunch at Worsham for the nutrition seminar with the rest of the team, so don’t get any bright ideas about sneaking away. Any questions?”

Tony’s hand shot up immediately. Eric was getting better about not wanting to roll his eyes about it. 

 

\--

 

Eric could grudgingly admit that the nutrition seminar had drastically improved since the previous year. Last year, it had been an awkward mix of the retiring nutritionist’s Branson’s goofy government-standard diagrams and Jack’s earnest, if stilted lecturing. This year was decidedly more hands-on. The entirety of Worsham had been reserved for five teams that had their seminar that day and the student athletes filled almost every seat in the small dining hall. Jack held them captive for almost thirty minutes, talking about how to make good choices to fuel their bodies before setting them loose on the prepped food stations around the hall. Each athlete had a template to work from to fill their plate up with greens and proteins. 

    It was surprisingly effective, Eric thought, as he watched Jack snake his way through the crowd, offering advice as he went. It was almost night and day from the stilted Jack from the previous year and it made a difference in how the athletes looked to him. The hockey players, of course, were already half in love with him because of who Jack’s father was, but Eric could see that the other teams in the hall took him seriously too. 

    Eric was sitting at the end of one of the long tables with the upperclassmen of SMH when Jack finally caught up with him. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t sneak a pastry or two in under your jacket, Bittle,” he said after he had given Chowder the thumbs up and told one the sophomores to grab more protein and less pasta next time. Eric stood from the table, grabbing his now empty tray and walking with Jack to the edge of the fray as students began milling about, done with lunch. 

“I gave each player an apple turnover this morning at our team meeting,” Eric said, keeping his face as straight as possible. 

Jack scowled at him.

“Bittle - “ he started.

“Relax, Mr. Zimmermann,” Eric said, waving him off. “I’m joking. I made empanadas with plenty of ground beef for protein. I didn’t even put cheese in them.” 

Eric left out the part where he had definitely given half a dozen apple turnovers to both Coach Hall and Murray. He was half-convinced that part of the reason he got the job was because he provided the coaches with a steady stream of sweets to keep them going after long morning skates. 

“Oh,” Jack said abruptly. Then, a moment later, he added, “I meant it when I said you could call me Jack.”

Eric couldn’t help the sudden flush in his cheeks and he looked away quickly, watching the hockey team coalesce together as they put their trays in the tray return and made their way out of the dining hall. Dex caught his eye from across the room and waved before punching Nursey on the arm and jogging over. Nursey herded the team out of the dining hall.

“Hey, Bitty,” Dex said, a little out of breath. “Did you want to come help us out with a tour of the Haus?”

Eric laughed in surprise.

“Oh, heaven’s no, those days are behind me, I’m afraid,” Eric said brightly. “You’ll have to make due without my expert guided tour.”

Dex nodded as though he had been expecting the let down. 

“Had to ask,” he said anyway. “Will we see you later for team dinner?”

“Maybe, but probably not,” Bitty said, masking actual disappointment this time. “Gotta get back to Faber to meet with Hall and Murray for a few hours this afternoon and then I’ll need to catch the train home.”

“Right,” Dex said, frowning. “Well, see you tomorrow then?”

“Bright and early,” Eric confirmed. 

Dex turned to Jack, seeming to remember suddenly that he was there, and held out a hand to shake. Jack took it, his face impassive. 

“Thanks for the talk, as always, Zimmermann,” Dex said seriously. Eric tried not to smile at the shade of Captain Poindexter in the way he was talking. “Chowder is really excited to take your class this year. Won’t shut up about it.”

“Yeah?” Jack asked and his face cracked into a more human expression. “Er - which one is Chowder, again?”

“Chris Chow,” Eric supplied. “Goalie.”

Jack nodded immediately and then smiled. 

“Of course,” he said. “He’s a beast.”

“Between the pipes, at least,” Dex said, smirking. 

“Well, tell him I’m looking forward to it too,” Jack said.

“Will do,” Dex agreed and then with a nod to Eric, he jogged away to rejoin the team who Eric could see through the huge windows had gathered out in front of the building. 

Jack cleared his throat as soon as Dex was gone and when Eric looked back to him, he was frowning. Eric looked around at the still-emptying dining hall and saw nothing to be upset at.

“You know,” Eric said, the thought occurring to him suddenly. “I didn’t know you taught classes too. I thought your only job was harassing the poor student athletes.”

“You say harassing,” Jack said, a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “I say coaching.”

Eric snorted and wisely didn’t say the retort that popped into his head in response to that.

“The class is new,” Jack offered after a minute. “They’re expanding my role a little this year. Getting me more involved on the main campus instead of just at the Athletics Center.”

Eric nodded. It made sense, probably. 

“I’ll make sure Chowder brings a pie to your first day of class, then,” Eric said.

Jack laughed, turning his head to the side, before recovering his more serious expression. He looked at Eric and then away again to the students milling around them. A few more came up to thank him and Eric was just about to drift away when Jack called him back. He turned back to Jack and Jack’s face was wrinkled in what might have been concern. 

    “Word of advice?” Jack said finally. Eric looked up at him in surprise and then nodded. “It’s a lot harder to be their coach if you insist on being their friend too.”

    Eric sputtered for a moment before finding his voice.

    “I know that,” he said. “But I was their friend first.”

“And now you’re their coach,” Jack said. “It changes things.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Eric insisted, but his mouth was already turning down into a frown. He knew a losing argument when he saw one. Hall and Murray had been preparing him for the inevitable  _ I’m your coach now  _ moment all summer. 

“The sooner you burst the bubble, the better it will be,” Jack said and then before Eric could argue, he turned and left. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: Jack gets a visitor, the semester starts with a vengeance and Eric struggles to get the respect he deserves


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience as I got this chapter into shape! In the week and a half since I last published I have had a big job interview, adopted a kitten and you know, general Thanksgiving holiday feels. But, yay, Chapter 3, is here and ready for reading!

**Episode 6.05 - Hummingbird Cake**

 

[ _Mission: Sneak a pie into the Nutritionist-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named’s first day of class? Total success. It didn’t take much to convince Chowder to do it for me. I still can’t believe he wants to subject himself to a nutrition class twice a week when we already have monthly seminars with the guy. Well, I guess it’s_ **_they_ ** _, not we now, although I have a feeling I’ll be the one in charge of getting them there. Chowder seems to absolutely worship him though, and apparently has been getting a lot of advice about how to deal with the -- you know what, nevermind about all that. Don’t want to jinx anything._

_Anyways, let’s talk about making the perfect Hummingbird Cake, a perennial favorite in the Bittle household..._  ]

 

\--

 

    There was a knock on Eric’s office door late one afternoon the next week.

    “It’s open!” he called. He was almost buried in travel logistics paperwork for the team’s first away games in mid-October. He still had a couple of weeks to finalize their hotel, but he wanted to get a headstart on it since he both knew himself and his schedule for the next month and he didn’t want to mess anything big up, especially so early in the season.

    A throat cleared and Eric looked up to see Jack Zimmermann standing in his doorway. He blinked at him before standing up from his desk and smoothing down his shirt a little self-consciously. He had come straight to his office from practice and hadn’t bothered to change before diving into paperwork since no one except a stray hockey player or two even knew where his office was.

    “Hey,” Eric said, dumbly.

    “Hi,” Jack said. His eyes were roaming Eric’s office, taking in the whiteboard still leaning against the wall instead of hanging and the leftover pie tins that Eric was going to take home that day after pilot-testing a few new recipes on the frogs after their mandatory extra practice. Eric waited for him to continue, but Jack stood there and stuffed his hands in his pockets instead, looking as awkward as ever.

    “Lord, I didn’t know anyone outside the team knew I was down here,” Eric prompted. He stepped out from around his desk and sat on the edge of it, crossing his arms across his chest.

    “I asked Chris for directions,” Jack said. Eric had a moment of blank confusion as he tried to remember a Chris who would know where his office was. Jack seemed to see his hesitation, because he added, “Chow?”

    “Ohhh,” Eric said, relaxing against the desk. “Of course, Chowder. Honestly, I don’t know if I’ve heard anyone call him that except his girlfriend in years.”

    Jack’s mouth twitched into a smile.

    “He, uh, brought your pies to class last week,” Jack said. “The class really enjoyed them.”

    “Just the class?” Eric asked.

    Jack gave Eric a looser, more genuine smile and he leaned against the doorframe, his hands finally coming untucked from his slacks.

    “There’s only seven of them, you know,” Jack said. “I had leftover pie in my office for three days.”   

    “I’m offended there were leftovers at all,” Eric said with an exaggerated sigh. “Your influence is already spreading.”

    Jack smiled thinly and shrugged.

    “There are three dancers in the class,” he said as way of explanation.

    Eric nodded. He knew the type. They'd probably shared a single slice between the three of them and still not finished it. Jack shifted in the doorway, looking suddenly nervous. Eric raised an eyebrow in question and Jack cleared his throat.

    “I was hoping to ask you a favor, actually,” Jack said.

    “More pie for your next class?” Eric joked. “Mr. Zimmermann, you hardly need to ask.”

    “Not exactly,” Jack said drily, crossing his arms across his broad chest.  “An old friend of mine is passing through town in a couple weeks and I was hoping we could get some ice time, if it’s not too much trouble.”

    “You have friends?” Eric asked. He put a hand to his own chest in a gesture of faux shock.

    “A few,” Jack replied, not rising to the bait.

    Eric stood up from his perch on his desk and turned around to grab his computer. He clicked around for a minute until his Outlook calendar popped up and he could see the schedule for Faber in neat little grids for the next month.

    “Got a particular day in mind?” Eric asked.

    “No,” Jack said. “I mean, it’s flexible. He gets in on the 9th and he’ll be here a few days.”

    Eric frowned at his open calendar.

    “Monday’s not looking good, but Tuesday or Wednesday after the team’s evening skate would be free that week. Is seven too late? I can block you off a few hours.”

    “Will that be a problem?”

    Eric’s fingers hovered over the keyboard and he glanced up at Jack’s strangely hesitant expression. He tilted his head in a smile before looking back at the computer.

    “No,” he said decisively, making a mental note to tell Hall and Murray about the reservation. Part of Eric’s job now was to handle all of the scheduling for the rink, including free skates and other reservations, but this seemed like a special case. “You’ll want to come a little bit later than 7, though, unless you want a herd of hockey players all over your friend.”

    Jack snorted.

    “He’d probably like it,” he said, but didn’t offer any further information.

    There was a beat of silence between them and then, before Eric could stop himself, the words burst from his mouth.

    “I didn’t think you skated much anymore.”

    Jack’s face darkened noticeably, but then he shrugged and the expression was gone, just like that.

    “Euh, not much,” Jack said. “But with this friend...things are always better when we have a little ice between us.”

    Eric wasn’t really sure what he meant by that, but he smiled and nodded, which Jack seemed to accept.

    “Well, I’ll be wrapping up with equipment and such, so just come by the locker room when y’all are ready to skate and I’ll get you set up with whatever you need,” Eric said.

    Jack frowned again.

    “This won’t be putting you out at all, will it?” he asked.

    “Oh, no, not at all,” Eric waved him off.  “The cleaning crew comes in the morning because practices tend to run late, so nobody will be bothered if you get on after us.”

    Jack nodded, his lips pursed in thought and then he smiled.

    “Thanks, Bittle,” he said.

    “No problem. Let me know if your plans change and we can always look at different days.”

    Jack knocked his knuckles in an absent-minded gesture against the doorframe and then straightened up.

    “Thanks,” he repeated. He turned to go and then stopped half-way out the door, turning back to Eric. “I liked the pecan pie.”

    “Well, I’m sure I would take that as a compliment, but I’m positive I made a _puh-kahn_ pie, not a _pee-can_ pie.”

    Jack’s snort of disbelief was enough to break Eric’s composure and he grinned. Jack looked for a moment as though he might say something further, but then his phone buzzed loudly in his pocket and the moment was over. He reached down and pulled it from his pocket.

    “I have to go,” he said after looking at the screen and then putting it back. “But I’ll see you around, yeah?”

    And then just like that, Jack was gone, leaving Eric alone in his office, a little dazed. If he could believe himself, he might say that that was an entirely friendly interaction with Jack, which had to be a first. He had even said he liked Eric’s pie. What on earth?

 

\--

 

    “I feel like by all rights I should be drunk for this,” Eric said as he stared down a blank canvas propped up on their dining room table. Lardo scoffed from the kitchen where she was filling two small cups with water. Eric pouted up at her as she set one in front of him. “I just want to give you a realistic feel for your students, Lardo.”

    “If I can’t drink, you can’t drink,” Lardo said, waving a paintbrush at him before tying her apron, the strings wrapping around her tiny waist twice. “This is just a test run and I don’t want it to take all night, Bits.”

    “Lardoooo,” Eric whined. “I had to run frog practice for three hours today.”

    Lardo sighed and rolled her eyes at him.

    “Fine,” she conceded. “One glass.”

    Eric skipped away from the table as quickly as he could, scurrying to the kitchen where a bottle of wine was already half-empty from the night before.

    “Do you want one?” he asked over his shoulder.

    “No,” Lardo said, sounding resigned. “I should practice sober, so I’m not disappointed by how depressing it is when I actually have to do it.”

    Eric stopped mid-pour and set the wine bottle down before ducking out of the kitchen to wrap Lardo in a hug from behind. She squeaked as he hugged her tightly, but then relaxed into his arms with a sigh.

    “You’re gonna be great and I’m so proud of you,” Eric said. Lardo sniffled and then wormed her way out of his arms, wiping her eyes in what she probably thought was a subtle move. Eric smiled at her back and then turned back to the kitchen to grab his wine glass after topping it off. If he only got one glass, he was going to make it count. By the time he got back, Lardo had her game face on. Eric took his seat and grabbed his paintbrush with a flourish.

    He grinned at Lardo as she took a deep breath.

    “Those drunk old ladies aren’t gonna know what hit ‘em,” he said.

    “Damn straight,” she grumbled.

    Lardo cracked her neck audibly and adjusted the blank canvas she had set up on a standing easel across the room from the table where Eric sat poised over his palette. She had printed out a small copy of the original painting and laid it on the table for Eric’s reference. He slid it across the table, so it was a little closer. The painting looked simple enough - a curling tree with light ornaments on a backdrop of dark green and blue. He spun his paintbrush in his hand and took a sip of his wine.

    “Alright, so to start off, you’re going to dip your brush in blue and then green, so the colors are layered on the brush, and then make small Xs on your canvas to start covering it,” Lardo said in what Eric recognized as her ‘team manager’ voice. He hoped he sounded half as intimidating as her when he spoke to the team, but he somehow doubted it. He obediently dipped his brush as instructed and started to copy her strokes, punctuated by the occasional sip of wine.

    “Do they get to choose what to paint?” he asked after he got bored of the silence. Lardo didn’t immediately look up from where she was focused on covering her own canvas, so Eric waited a moment before asking again. This time, she looked up at him and blinked.

    “Oh,” she said, wiping her face with her spare hand and streaking a small line of blue on her chin. “Kind of. We post a schedule of what we’re painting and they can sign up for what they want, but everyone paints the same thing on a certain night.”

    Eric hummed in response, dipping his brush in paint again before renewing his commitment to covering the canvas in color. It was taking longer than he thought it would just by looking at it and he kept looking over at Lardo’s to judge how far ahead she was, but she seemed to be taking a leisurely enough pace so he could keep up. He knew from living with her that she was going slow because he had seen her paint full paintings at the speed of lightning before.

    “How is the team shaping up?” Lardo asked after another few minutes of just strokes on the canvas. Eric put down his brush and stretched his hand before taking another drink.  

    “The offensive lines are still a mess,” he said, swirling the remaining wine in his glass around while he took in his progress on the painting. The canvas was pretty much covered, but could use a second coat of color. “Defense looks good, but that’s because Dex and Nursey are there to anchor them.”

    “You think they’ll shape up before your first game?”

    “Well, we’ve got 32 days to find out, I guess.”

    “Not that you’re keeping track.”

    “Hey,” he said defensively. “It’s my job to keep track now.”

    She waved her paintbrush in dismissive agreement.

    “Okay, after you’re done with the second coat of blue and green, you’re going to want to wash your brush,” she said, snapping back into instructor mode. Eric hurried to finish his second coat and follow her instructions for the next step. In between, he poured himself another glass of wine with minimal protest from Lardo.

    “Oh, I forgot to tell you, but Jack Zimmermann came by my office yesterday,” Eric told her later that night as they let their canvasses dry. Lardo was slumped on the couch, her face still smeared with dark blue paint and her apron strings untied. She nursed a beer, resting it on her belly as she peeled the label off.

    “Why?”

    Eric shrugged.

    “I sent Chowder with some pies to his first class with him,” he said.

    Lardo groaned.

    “God, you’re totally going to let Shitty win that bet, aren’t you?” she asked.

    “What bet?”

    “He thinks that Jack has crush on you and bet me a hundred bucks that he was going to ask you out by Christmas,” she said, taking a swig of her beer and shaking her head. “I can’t believe you’re encouraging this by giving him pie. No one can resist that.”

    He frowned at her and sank back on the couch next to her.

    “Shitty was serious about that?” he asked and then, as an afterthought, added, “I’m pretty sure Jack is straight. Plus, even if he wasn’t, he definitely doesn’t like me or my pies.”

    Eric had already decided to keep that ‘ _I liked the pecan pie_ ’ to himself because he was still convinced it was some sort of crazed delusion on his part. He saw no need to add fuel to the fire, anyways.

    “Bro, no one would venture into the bowels of Faber to find your closet of an office unless they really liked you or they wanted to murder you. You’re still alive, so I think we should assume the former.”

    “It’s not a closet,” he said. “And besides, he wanted to ask a favor, too. A friend of his is coming to town and he wanted to book ice time.”

    “And there aren’t a million other ways to do that? He could have emailed.”

    Eric gave her a long-suffering sigh and she grinned.

    “Just saying,” she said with a shrug.

    “I don’t think you should be worried about your bet,” he said, patting her arm. “Besides, even if he asked me out, I would say no. He barely even likes pie, Lardo, it would never work out.”

 

\--

 

**Episode 6.07 - Easy and Delicious Buttermilk Biscuits**

 

[ _…Well, practices are in full swing and I’m trying not to focus too much on the fact that our first game is less than three weeks away right now, but I’m just so worried that we won’t be ready. I mean, we have a few non-conference games to kick off the season, so at there’s that, but we still have so much work to do. Today, Murray told me that he’s going to announce that my non-mandatory speed skating practices are going to become mandatory for all players until the first game and maybe after if the lines still aren’t clicking and I’m just so nervous about it because I feel like I’m treading water with just the frogs, but it’s always harder to run practice with all of the boys that I used to play with on the ice..._  ]

  


\--

 

    Practice cleared out quickly the night that Jack had reserved the ice and Eric was grateful that he wouldn’t need to chase any of the players off the ice. Only Chowder lingered behind, pushing cones towards center where Eric was collecting them to put away.

    “Don’t you wanna get out of all that gear?” Eric asked as he pulled in the last of the equipment and picked up the big stack of cones. Chowder followed him off the ice.

    “Used to it,” he said, which was fair enough. He opened the gate for Eric and followed after, throwing his mask on the bench when Eric stopped and set the cones down on the ground. Chowder’s face was nervous and drawn into a frown.

    “What’s on your mind, Chowder?”

    Chowder’s shoulders slumped as he sat down on the bench and Eric took a spot next to him, knocking their shoulders together. That seemed to be the needed catalyst for the floodgate to open up because a rush of words suddenly filled the empty air.

    “I know that they’re doing fine on the ice,” Chowder said. “But things between Dex and Nursey are like really bad. I don’t know exactly what happened but it all started at the end of last year and I didn’t want to tell you because you were so busy with graduation and stuff and I hoped they would just cool off over the summer, but well...they didn’t. At first I thought it was Dex getting the C, but now, I don’t think that’s it -”

    “Chowder,” Eric interrupted, holding his hands up for the other man to stop. “Did something happen recently?”

    Chowder took a deep breath and recalibrated. He was flipping his mask over and over in his hands in an unconscious movement. Eric wanted to reach out and still his hands, but he knew by now that the constant motion of his hands helped Chowder think more clearly.

    “Well,” Chowder said finally. “Yes.”

    Eric had to wait for him to continue as Chowder gnawed at his lips.

    “I wasn’t home for most of it,” Chowder said. He had ducked his head away so Eric couldn’t easily see his expression. “So I didn’t hear what started it or anything, but I came home yesterday and they were in the kitchen yelling at each other and that’s not that unusual or anything, of course, but it’s just -- they stopped when they heard me close the door, which they don’t normally do. I mean, you know them.”

    Eric nodded his agreement. He was pretty sure that Dex and Nursey would find a way to argue in front of Saint Peter himself at the pearly gates.

    “I swear I didn’t hear much else, but I definitely heard your name so I thought maybe they were arguing about practice or something else, so I asked Nursey about it later and normally he’s so ready to vent about whatever Dex said, he’ll tell me everything, but he just made some excuse and left while we were in the middle of getting coffee at Annie’s.”

    “Oh,” Eric said. He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He suddenly had a very good idea of what Dex and Nursey had probably been fighting about. Apparently, the whole almost-kiss from last semester wasn’t going to swept under the rug and forgotten about after all. _Fucking Nursey_ , he thought silently. _Why did it have to Nursey who crashed that particular moment?_

    “Anyways…” Chowder trailed off. “I was hoping you might know what they were fighting about, so I could try to fix it.”

    “I --” Eric started, but then snapped his mouth shut and re-evaluated. He took a deep breath and patted Chowder on the shoulder. “I’ll talk to them. Both of them. And I’ll let you know how it goes.”

    “Oh, Bitty, you don’t - I mean, I know you have so many other responsibilities now and you’re not captain anymore, so I know you can’t fix everything like you used to,” Chowder said. His eyes were big and puppy-ish as he looked over to Eric and Eric loved him for it. He threw an arm around Chowder’s broad shoulders and hugged him through his gear.

    “I got this one, regardless, okay?” Eric said. “I think it’s probably a little bit my fault anyways and you’re right, it’s not a hockey thing.”

    Chowder deflated a little next to Eric, but reached out and patted Eric’s knee in agreement.

    “Thanks for still looking out for us, Bitty,” he said so seriously that it took Eric by surprise. Eric blinked at him, thrown off guard by how grown-up Chowder was all of a sudden. He wasn’t sure when that had happened. He was still used to thinking of Chowder as an immature frog, even though it had been years since that was true.

    “Of course, Chowder,” he said, composing himself. “I’ve always got your back. Even if they pay me for it now.”

    This elicited the expected bark of laughter from Chowder and Eric grinned in return. Chowder flipped his mask one more time before standing and stretching side to side.

    “See you tomorrow?” he asked.

    “See you then,” Eric agreed.

    Chowder headed back to the locker room, his gear causing him to rock side to side in a waddle as he walked. Eric watched him leave and then sighed, running a hand through his hair. He wondered when a good time to talk to Dex and Nursey separately would be. Should he do it in his office or maybe meet them somewhere more neutral? It wasn’t really hockey-related, if it was about what he thought it was about. And even if it wasn’t...his office was ill-suited to hosting more than himself and a few piles of paperwork anyways.

    He was in the middle of brainstorming possible locations when a sharp laugh cut through the dead air of Faber and startled him out of his thoughts. He looked behind him to where the laugh had come from and froze. Eric had never really seen him outside of his gear or a sweaty post-game interview, but he was 100% certain that Stanley Cup winner Kent Parson had somehow just materialized from the locker room of Faber. He blinked and when he looked again, Jack had joined him and Eric realized they were both in skates.

_An old friend_ , Eric thought in a daze. That’s what Jack had said when he’d asked for ice time. Eric gaped at them a second longer before shaking his head and standing up. He forcefully reminded himself of every manner that he had ever learned to restrain himself from grabbing his phone out of his pocket and asking for a selfie.

    “Bittle,” Jack said and Eric noticed for the first time that he seemed a little on edge. He had a sudden flash of memory back to the Jack he’d seen at the End of Summer BBQ, tense and wound-up, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter. “Chris said you were still out here so we came through.”

    Eric smiled a little ruefully. He suspected Chowder had probably waylaid them for several minutes and the news of his encounter would be spreading quickly.

    “I told you to come late,” he reminded Jack. Jack shrugged in a full-body way that Eric couldn’t help but track with his eyes.

    “My fault,” Kent Parson said, abruptly reminding Eric that he was actually there and not a figment of his imagination. When Eric looked over to him, Kent was smirking at him in a way that made Eric feel as though he knew exactly what Eric had been thinking while looking at Jack just then. Eric felt the blush rise on his cheeks. Kent stepped forward and offered his hand. “Kent Parson, nice to meet you.”

    Eric didn’t laugh, but it was a close thing. It felt absurd that someone as famous as Kent Parson would even bother to introduce himself to someone like Eric. He took Kent’s proffered hand and shook it anyways.

    “Eric Bittle,” he said. “I’m a coaching assistant here at Samwell.”

    “Bittle played right wing for Samwell,” Jack interjected and Eric shot him a surprised look. Jack lifted a corner of his mouth in a small, encouraging smile. “They made it to the semis last year.”

    “Nice,” Kent said, grinning at Eric with a new, sharper smile. He offered his fist to bump this time and Eric, with a quick glance at Jack, bumped it with a smile of his own. “Bittle, you said?”

    “Call me Bitty,” Eric said with a smile. He was working very hard to play it cool and it seemed to be working.

    “Parse,” Kent offered. Eric already knew that, of course, in the way that you know most things about top players if you watched a lot of games, but it felt like some sort of intimate detail as Kent stood in front of him in the flesh. Eric was decidedly star-struck.

    “Well,” he said, trying to recover himself by turning back to Jack. “Y’all are welcome to the ice for the rest of the night. No one should really bother you. The boys all had a fire under their butts to get out of here, so I suspect there’s a party to keep them occupied even if Chowder spills the beans about your ‘old friend’.”

    He raised an eyebrow pointedly at Jack when he said that last bit and Jack had the decency to look a little shamed. Kent, by contrast, looked delighted.

    “Aw, Zimms, were you protecting my identity from the hockey babies?” he asked, ribbing Jack with his elbow. Jack shoved him in response. “That’s cute.”

    “Don’t flatter yourself,” he grumbled. “I didn’t want to be caught in an autograph stampede.”

    Kent smirked at that, looking beyond satisfied.

    “So, Bitty,” Kent said, turning back to Eric with a snap of his fingers. “How about you skate with us?”

    “Skate with you?” Eric almost squeaked.

    Jack’s eyeroll was almost audible. Kent seemed to take it in stride.

    “Yeah, totally,” Kent said. “Zimms is gonna be rusty as hell, so it’ll be nice to have someone on the ice who has played hockey in this decade.”

    Jack snorted, but didn’t argue with Kent’s obviously bad math. Instead, he slipped on one of the gloves he had tucked under his arm and then the other while Eric’s eyes darted back and forth between the two older men.

    “I can’t stay for long,” Eric said. “The last train leaves in two hours.”

    And that was how Eric somehow found himself playing a game of pick-up with Jack Zimmermann and Kent Parson.

    Jack was not nearly as rusty as Kent had predicted. It seemed like he had stepped off the ice yesterday instead of almost six years ago and Eric couldn’t help but track his movements across the ice with a sense of awe. Watching Kent Parson skate was an expected wonder, but Jack was something else entirely. From the moment he stepped out onto the ice, he was almost predatory, each push from his skates powerful and intentional. Eric wondered what playing in a real game with Jack would have been like. If he had to guess, he might have settled on something like _electric_.

    Jack’s prediction about Kent, however, proved to be true enough in short order. They were better with a little bit of ice between them. More relaxed - the tenseness that had been in Jack’s shoulders melted into intention from the first moment that the puck hit the tape of his stick and they were both playing with a glee that was better suited to teenage boys than grown men. It was almost enough to make Eric forget that who exactly he was playing with.

    He managed to sneak a goal in around Jack with a well-timed spinorama that took him by surprise. Eric grinned as the puck found the back of the net. Jack ruffled his hair from behind in a congratulatory way and Eric skated back out to center ice. When he look back, Kent had retrieved the puck, but wasn’t moving it. Instead he was frowning at Eric, his stick hovering a few inches of the ice. He had tilted his head as though thinking hard about something as he squinted in Eric’s direction.

    “Why didn’t you get signed?” Kent asked suddenly, apropos of nothing. “You’re more than decent. A little small, maybe, but you’re stupid fast and you’ve got great hands.”

    Eric glided to a stop next to him and knocked his stick against his own skates. He pursed his lips as he considered his words carefully. Jack was closing in on them from the other side of the ice by the time he found his voice.

    “Teams aren’t really willing to take a risk on someone like me,” Eric said slowly, not meeting either of their eyes as he stared down at where his stick met the ice. “Besides, I’m not sure I would have wanted to play. I mean - I want to _play_ , obviously, but maybe not as the first openly gay player in the NHL or AHL or whatever, you know?”

    When he looked up, Jack was looking at him with a guarded expression and Kent...Kent was looking at Jack, but almost the moment Eric’s gaze landed on him, Kent’s eyes snapped back over to Eric and his mouth twisted into a strange smirk.

    “I thought I recognized you from somewhere, but couldn’t put my finger on it,” Kent said, waving his stick a little in Eric’s direction. “You did an interview, right? A few months ago. _Outsports_.”

    “Yeah,” Eric said, swallowing down the sudden spike of anxiety he felt at mention of the interview. “That’s me.”

    Kent’s face suddenly grew serious and he nodded at Eric.

    “That took a lot of guts,” he said and then, with a bit of obvious hesitation, he added, “We all read it, you know. I mean, I know that my team did at least and a lot of other guys I know in the league. We were passing it around for weeks.”

    Eric blinked at him in shock. His hands were sweaty in his gloves and he twisted the stick in his hands. He risked a glance at Jack, but Jack looked just as surprised as he was.

    “Kenny…” Jack said, trailing off. He skated a little closer to Kent, but Kent waved him off.

    “Yeah, yeah, Zimms,” Kent said, his tone changing. “Don’t scare the kid. Got it.”

    “That’s not --” Jack said, his forehead creased in deep consternation.

    “Don’t worry about it,” Kent interrupted, shutting Jack up immediately. Jack’s face was stormy, but he seemed to let it go, skating backwards and then looping out to skate a few circles around the ice. Eric watched him skate for a second before turning back to Kent.

    “I should, um...I’m going to go,” he said, already skating backwards. “You guys obviously have some catching up to do. It was great to meet you.”

    “Yeah, man,” Kent said and shook off a glove to offer a fistbump again. Eric did the same, tucking his glove under his arm. “Sorry to kill the moment.”

    “No, no,” Eric said, flailing a bit. “It’s not that. Sorry, it’s great that people saw the interview and all that.”

    Kent nodded, obviously not convinced by Eric’s half-hearted denial.

    “It was great to meet you,” Eric said more sincerely. “Really. My friends are all gonna be so jealous when they hear I skated with you.”

    That seemed to do the trick of dissolving any lingering awkwardness because Kent smiled immediately and ran a hand through his already wild hair.

    “Yeah, totally,” he said. “It was really cool to meet you too. Nice to know Zimms has some friends out here to look after him.”

    Eric didn’t argue with that, but instead waved one last time and turned away, skating for the gate. He meant to skate right off the ice, but when he caught Jack’s eye, he changed directions abruptly. Kent was still across the ice, playing with the stray puck by slapping it up in the air and then catching it on his stick. Jack’s face was drawn into a frown, but for once Eric didn’t feel like it was directed at him. He glanced back at Kent before lowering his voice to talk to Jack.

    “The maglocks on the doors are automatic and the lights are all on sensors, so you won’t need to do anything when y’all are done out here,” he said.

    Jack was still frowning, but he nodded. His forehead unscrunched itself for moment when he looked at Eric. He opened his mouth once, twice, and then licked his lips. Eric looked away to hide the small blush that he felt creeping up his neck at the sudden, unwelcome thought of Shitty’s bet that Jack would ask him out. Now, standing next to Jack on the ice, after seeing him skate so naturally and powerfully with Kent Parson of all people, the bet seemed even more ridiculously impossibly than it had when Lardo had told him about it two weeks before. He should tell her to increase the stakes, honestly. Soak Shitty for all he was worth.

    “He, uh, means well,” Jack said finally.

    It took Eric a moment to catch Jack’s meaning and then he flushed again at how far his mind had wandered from the situation at hand. He wanted to check how close Kent was again, but didn’t want to make it obvious, so he settled for looking down instead.

    “It’s not…” Eric started, a little unsure of what he was going to say. He regrouped. “It’s not bad. It’s just still overwhelming, I guess. That total strangers know. I mean, I only came out to my parents two years ago, so it just feels like a lot when he says stuff like an entire NHL team read all about me and talked about it for weeks.”

    Jack face shifted strangely and to Eric’s surprise, he reached out and grabbed Eric’s shoulder. Jack’s eyes, trained squarely on him, were such an intense blue that they made Eric feel pinned to the spot.

    “It was great what you did,” he said. “I hope it makes a difference for a lot of people. And Parse...he just wants it to make a difference, too. I think that’s what he was trying to say.”

    As if to punctuate Jack’s words, the puck zoomed audibly past them and thunked into the boards beside them. Jack dropped his arm from Eric’s shoulder and shot an annoyed glance at Kent, who shrugged carelessly in response before skating after the puck.

    “Thanks for letting me skate with you, Jack,” Eric said, before Jack could skate away in pursuit. “It was fun.”

    Jack looked surprised and Eric laughed.

    “I half-believed the rumors that you’d forgotten how to skate,” Eric said. He skated backwards and turned away before Jack could retort. He waved one last time at Kent before he closed the gate behind him and just caught the salute that Kent gave him in return. He rolled his eyes to himself. Kent Parson, who would have thought? Ransom and Holster were going to die of jealousy when he told them.

 

\--

 

Later that night, Eric’s phone chirped at him with several rapid-fire notifications from Twitter.

 

_@realKentParson is now following you!_

 

**Direct Message:**

_hey bitty hope it’s ok to follow_

_would u be up for talking more about the whole coming out thing?_

_it’s ok if not but i’m in town til friday lmk_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Kent and Jack are friends, but it's still an uneasy friendship. When Jack overdosed, he decided not to go back to hockey and it was really hard for a lot of years. They reconciled a couple of years ago, but it's rough to see your buddy go on to win all of the things while you settle down into a more normal life. Kent will be a recurring minor character in this story and Jack's relationship with hockey will definitely be further plumbed. 
> 
> \- Lardo's job is at Painting with a Twist. The life of a working artist is hard and sometimes requires sacrifices. I imagine she often collects the leftover wine and drinks it after all her customers leave.
> 
> \- UP NEXT: The first game of the season and what's up with Dex and Nursey anyways?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel the need to clarify that this fic will not be featuring any actual Bitty/Parse, even if there might be some maybe mutual attraction there occasionally. I will not be steered off course!

    Eric should have expected some sort of revenge for meeting Kent Parson and not immediately texting the boys about it, but nothing could have prepared him for the 53,782 word long explicit fanfiction epic featuring Kent and Jack as forbidden lovers in the Q that Holster sent to the group chat a few days later. After five years of friendship, Eric knew better than to click on any link that Holster sent to the group chat, but he still always ended up clicking them anyways. Holster had a talent for finding the weirdest, darkest corners of the internet that existed and Eric didn’t even want to know where Holster had to go looking to find half the stuff he dredged up.

 

 

> **Group Text (5 members): BITTY IS A TRAITOR**
> 
>  
> 
> **Bitty:** why??? I don’t deserve this.
> 
> **Holster:** you do!! bros don’t skate with nhl stars without inviting their other bros to join
> 
> **Bitty:** You are literally in new york right now. How on earth could you have skated with us?
> 
> **Holster:** BETRAYAL, BITTY, BETRAYAL
> 
> **Lardo:** holster did you have that bookmarked or something? you found it awful fast
> 
> **Ransom:** lmao he totally did
> 
> **Bitty:** You know that I work with Jack? I see him all the time!! I don’t need this!
> 
> **Holster:** i’m just trying to contextualize your experience, bits
> 
> **Bitty:** pls don’t. ever again.
> 
> **Ransom:** bitty bro does that mean you read it? lmao

  


    Eric was ashamed to admit even to himself how far he had gotten into the fic before he forcefully exited out of it because _that was not how sex worked_ . _Jesus Christ on a cracker._ Now, though, as he sat across a table from Kent Parson waiting for their lunch to appear, he had never wished so fervently that he could scrub something from his brain. Phrases kept popping unbidden into his head any time there was a lull in the conversation between them. Eric felt like he needed to go to church every day for the next year just to purify himself of the things he was suddenly imagining Kent doing.

    Kent’s particular line of questioning at lunch was not helping the situation in the slightest.

    Eric had doubted himself for agreeing to come the whole ride over on the bus, but before he could truly talk himself out of it, he had found himself at the restaurant Kent had chosen in a quiet neighborhood not far from Eric’s apartment. They had taken a table outside, even though it was already a little chilly, and Kent had started asking about Eric’s coming out almost immediately after they ordered and the waitress had disappeared inside. He peppered Eric first with questions about the interview itself and then about his team and their reactions, only taking a break when the waitress reappeared with water and then later, with their lunches.

    “So your team knew?” Kent asked for the second time, circling back to it as if in disbelief as he finished the last bite of his chicken entree and pushed the plate to the side of the table. He took his hat off, bending it in his hands in what seemed like an unconscious tic. It reminded Eric of Chowder, strangely, and he tried to focus on that instead of the increasing spike of annoyance he felt at Kent’s dogged persistence of examining his coming out from every possible angle for no apparent reason. Eric was quickly running out of patience for it. “Like the whole time you were playing?”

    “Well,” Eric said, screwing his face up in thought. He pushed his empty salad bowl to the side of the table and crumpled his napkin on top of it.  “Not the whole time, I guess. I came out officially around Christmas of my freshman year.”

    “And how did they take it? Were they mad?” Kent pressed. He leaned forward across the table towards Eric, setting his hat aside.

    They had definitely already been over this.

    “Kent,” Eric sighed. “No offense, but I’m not sure I understand the point you’re trying to make here.”

    Kent frowned and sat back before running a hand through his mess of blonde curls. He reached over and grabbed his hat before settling it backwards on his head. His eyes swept the empty patio before he sank a little farther down in his chair.

    “Sorry,” he said with a note of petulance. “I should have made Zimms come.”

    Eric started at that, crossing his arms across his chest to mask his discomfort. When Kent had first messaged him, he had taken it to Jack himself the next day and asked him to come, but Jack had hesitated, putting it off and then ultimately told Eric that he should go alone, if he felt comfortable going at all. It had been a strange string of conversations leading up to an equally strange lunch and it was only now occurring to Eric that Jack had probably checked in with Kent before encouraging Eric to go alone.

    “Jack seemed to think that what you had to talk with me about might be better said without him,” Eric said carefully, taking a gamble. Kent sighed, tugging at his hat again. Eric had half a mind to rip it off his head and throw it across the patio. He gripped his glass of water instead and took a few deep breaths. When he looked up again, Kent’s hat had somehow found its way back into his hands and his hair was sticking up in every imaginable direction.

    “It’s like this,” Kent said, swallowing visibly. He didn’t continue for a long moment, holding Eric’s gaze instead as though he could communicate whatever he wanted to say through eye contact alone. He swallowed again and Eric’s eyes tracked the way his throat bobbed, lingering on the hollow of Kent’s neck. Kent ran a hand through his hair again and smirked a bit as Eric’s gaze slid back up, but when their eyes met, he looked away, a blush visible on under the dusting of freckles on his cheekbones. A tumbler in the back of Eric’s head slid clumsily into place and he blinked at Kent. _Oh_.

    “You want to tell your team?” Eric ventured breathlessly after it was clear that Kent didn’t actually know how to say it. Kent flinched, looking away as his skin flushed a more visible pink but he nodded curtly. Eric thought Kent might actually snap the hat in his hands with the way he was bending it and he took it gently away from him, setting it down on the table beside himself. Kent fixated on it for a moment longer before his eyes settled back on Eric.

    “They weren’t mad,” Eric said softly. “They were great. If anything, they were overly happy to set me up with half the rugby team.”

    Kent was looking at him steadily now, his face a complicated storm of emotions. Eric thought for a moment that he might even cry, but as if Kent had heard him think that, he suddenly shook himself and pursed his lips together until his face more resembled the smirk that always seemed present in his interviews. Eric felt as though he had whiplash.

    “Sorry,” Kent said with the same grumpy petulance from earlier, obviously reading Eric's annoyance on his face. He flinched again and the smirk was gone, replaced with a small frown.

    “I know you’re not really asking me,” Eric said, knowing he was treading on thin ice. “But if what you said was true and they really were passing around that interview -”

    “Don’t,” Kent interrupted him.

    Eric held up his hands in a sign of surrender. They sat in sullen silence together until the waitress came by with the check which Kent took, waving Eric’s cash away as though it were an annoying fly. A few minutes later, they walked out to the parking lot together.

    “I can give you a ride back to your place,” Kent said, waving to a shiny gray car that had to be a rental that was poorly parked in in the corner of the lot.

    “No, it’s fine,” Eric said. “The bus stop is right around the corner and it’s a short ride. Thanks, though.”

    Kent accepted this without argument, nodding. He was chewing on his lips in way that might draw blood if he continued. Eric took a step back, ready to leave.

    “I - uh,” Kent said before Eric could get too far. “Thanks, Bitty. For talking. I know I’m shit at all this.”

    “Yeah,” Eric agreed with a shrug. “I would say anytime, but I don’t think that’s true.”

    Kent gave a sharp bark of laughter, unexpected and loud.

    “I can see why Zimms likes you,” he said.

    Eric opened his mouth to argue that point, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. Kent plows on anyways, oblivious to the moment.

    “You should come to the game in December when we’re in town. Watch us wipe the floor with the Bruins,” Kent said. “I can get you tickets. However many you want.”

    “Really?” Eric didn’t know why he was surprised by the offer, but he was.

    “Yeah, for sure,” Kent said. “I’ll see you around. Take care of Zimms for me, okay?”

    Before Eric could really answer beyond a bemused nod, Kent had fished his car keys out of his pocket and turned to leave, throwing a peace sign over his shoulder like a salute. Eric watched him slide into the gray car before waving himself and walking back to the bus stop, dazed and alone.

 

   

\--   

 

    “Is he always like that?” Eric asked without preamble as soon as Jack rounded the corner to his office the next morning. He had been lying in wait for Jack, lurking outside his office for almost half an hour as he waited for Jack to appear from his morning class session. Eric had looked up the times for Jack's class the night before when he couldn’t sleep because he was too busy dissecting every word Kent had said at lunch. And every word he hadn’t said.  

    “Yes,” Jack said without hedging. He didn’t elaborate.

    His mouth quirked in obvious amusement at the ambush as he unlocked his door, ushering Eric inside and closing it behind them. He had a satchel slung over his shoulder and a stack of papers in hand, which he set down on the table before turning back to Eric.

    “It’s infuriating,” Eric said.

    “Yes,” Jack agreed.

    “That’s why you didn’t want to come? Because you knew he would be a pain in the ass about it?”

    Jack shrugged before straightening up the stack of papers on his already neat desk. He took a seat at his desk and Eric dropped into the only other chair without invitation, making himself comfortable. Jack didn’t protest.

    “He would have been worse if I had come,” Jack said.

    “You don’t even know how bad he was,” Eric pointed out and Jack made a grunting noise of agreement.

    “I’ve known him since he was fifteen. I have a pretty good idea.”

    Eric huffed in concession, crossing his arms.

    “He’s been having a really hard time lately,” Jack said quietly after a long moment of silence. “It’s a lot to hide.”

    Eric’s lingering annoyance with Kent melted away almost instantly and he sat back in the chair, frowning.

    “Yeah,” he said. “I can’t even imagine, honestly. I’ve been up all night thinking about it. Lord, I almost fainted from stress when I told my _parents_ , I couldn’t even begin to think about _that_.”

    Jack was looking at him with that cryptic half-smile again.

    “I never got to come out to my parents,” Jack said after a moment, thoughtful and slow. “They figured it out on their own when I overdosed and Kent was the one to call the ambulance. His dad had to come to the hospital and drag him to the draft ceremony himself. I don’t know if it took that much detective work to figure out the why.”

    The words were so matter-of-fact that it took Eric a long moment to unpack them. He clenched his fists in his lap, looking at the way his nails dug into the skin there before he found the courage to look back up at Jack. He wasn’t sure why it felt like an arrow straight to the heart to know that Jack had that kind of history with Kent, but it did.

    “I didn’t know y’all were...together,” he trailed off uncertainly.

    “We’re not. Anymore, I mean,” Jack said. “It was a long time ago.”

    “Right,” Eric said and he felt something come loose in his chest.

    His leg jiggled up and down with a burst of anxious energy and he suddenly felt like he desperately needed to get out of Jack’s sunlit office, but he tamped down the feeling as best he could so he could meet Jack’s eyes. Jack was looking back at him, evaluating.

    “There were a lot of rumors back in Juniors,” Jack said. “About us. So, after...even when I knew that I wasn’t going back to hockey, it felt like something I needed to keep quiet. At first, I told myself it was to protect Parse, but now...I don’t know, it’s more habit than anything.”

    Eric felt a little bit as if he were drowning in the sudden press of emotions in his chest. It was all he could do to keep looking at Jack. His head was empty, filled with a faint static as he groped for the right thing to say. The only thing he could think of was that stupid fic that Holster had sent him earlier with the dumb, strangely giddy thought of _Wow, they were actually on to something_.

    “Sorry,” Jack said, frowning. Eric wondered what expression on his face had triggered the sudden change and he looked down, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to reset before looking back.

    “What for?” Eric asked when he could find his voice again.

    “It’s a lot to put on you,” he said. “You didn’t really ask to be invited to it. I should have done a better job at running interference, probably.”

    Eric tilted his head to the side, considering. He looked up to see Jack looking back at him, forehead creased in concern.

    “It’s a lot,” Eric agreed finally. “But I’m…glad is the wrong word. I don’t know.”

    Eric fumbled for the right word, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked up at the ceiling for guidance, but none came. Jack didn’t interrupt, which Eric was grateful for.

    “I guess what I mean to say is, it makes me feel less alone,” he said, feeling the lameness of his own words acutely. “I mean, I knew I wasn’t. I know other hockey players that are gay, of course. But...I’m not saying this right.”

    Jack’s face softened despite Eric’s clumsy words and Eric blew out a big breath of frustration.

    “I know what you mean,” Jack offered. “It makes you feel a little less alone every time. Like you had a secret team the whole time and you didn’t know it.”

    “Yes,” Eric agreed with a small laugh of relief. “ _Yes_. A team, I like that.”

 

  


\--

 

**Episode 6.09 - Ask The Vlogger!**

 

[ . _..This week instead of  sharing a recipe, I thought I’d do a round-up of questions from you, my loyal viewers! I asked and you guys delivered! My roommate Lardo and I spent all last night combing through your questions and chose ten of our favorites for this round of ‘Ask the Vlogger!’ Okay, let’s get started._

**_If you could only make one pie for the rest of your life, what would it be?_ **

_Gosh, y’all are trying to kill me with a question like this! One pie for the rest of forever? I’d have to go with apple - it’s a classic, but also with a couple of tricks, it can be pretty versatile and surprising. Maybe we can try a variation on the traditional recipe soon!_

**_Coffee or tea?_ **

_Coffee! I never had the patience for tea. Anyways, you can hardly have a PSL with tea!_

**_Are you currently in a relationship? If no, do you have a crush on anyone?_ **

_Lord, this was a popular question. I was starting to think that my mother stuffed the comments section, y’all! The answer is no, I’m not dating anyone right now. As for a crush....you know, I don’t think I do! I’ll keep you posted…_ ]

  
  


\--

 

    Eric slammed the door behind him on his way into the apartment, throwing his bag into the hallway and kicking off his shoes against the wall. He headed straight into the kitchen and swung open the pantry with more force than was strictly necessary.

    “Woah, Bitty, where’s the fucking fire, man?” Shitty asked from the living couch. Eric ducked his head out of the pantry to see Shitty lighting up. Shitty raised the small blunt up in a silent offer and Eric shook his head.

    “Bro, come on, looks like you need it,” Shitty said. He raised an eyebrow and grinned at Eric. Eric went back to shifting boxes around in search of consumable alcohol in the pantry. Finally, his hand landed on an unopened bottle of Cabernet. He sighed in relief.

    “You know I can’t,” he said, re-emerging with the bottle of wine. He grabbed a glass from the drying rack and the bottle opener from the drawer before going to join Shitty on the couch.

    “You know that when they say ‘random drug testing’, they don’t actually mean ‘random’? They just want to cover their fucking asses so they can test you if you fuck up on the job,” Shitty said.

    “Well, all things considered, I’d still rather not,” Eric said, cracking the seal on the wine instead and twisting the cork out before pouring himself an overfull glass.

    “S’fine, suit yourself,” Shitty said, taking a long pull.

    Eric took a few sips of wine in the vain hope that it would relax him. He had spent the entire train ride home in a fluctuating state of intense embarrassment and a more nebulous feeling of outrage after grabbing an evening coffee with Nursey at Annie’s. He couldn’t stop his leg from tapping out a furious rhythm. Shitty managed to take several more drags before Eric could even formulate what to say.

    “This doesn’t leave this apartment, okay?” Eric said, clutching his wine glass to his chest.

    “Bits, of course,” Shitty said. “Client-attorney privilege.”

    “You haven’t even taken the bar yet,” Eric pointed out. It was an old argument and Shitty grinned wolfishly at him.

    “Scout’s fucking honor then, man,” he said, like he always did.

    Eric nodded.

    “Nursey thinks I’m sleeping with Dex,” Eric said in a rush. “Or did, I’m not sure.”

    Shitty raised an eyebrow at him.

    “It was the most awkward coffee of my life, Shits,” he confessed, taking another long drink of wine before continuing. “At first, he, like, didn’t want to talk at all and then he basically point blank asked me if Dex got the captaincy because we were fucking around together and I swear to God, I couldn’t even speak for a solid minute because I was so shocked.”

    Shitty’s shoulders were shaking in a silent guffaw and Eric elbowed him sharply.

    “Don’t laugh,” he said with a whine. “I almost died right then and there.”

    Shitty coughed on another inhale and thumped his chest a few times.

    “That is a fucking _theory_ ,” Shitty said, choking on his words around the laughter.

    “He can’t seriously think that I would throw the captaincy to Dex because we were sleeping together,” Eric said, scandalized, and then realizing what he’d said, he flushed. “Not that we were!”

    Shitty grinned at him.

    “Or are,” Eric added hastily. “Or will be in the future.”

    Shitty let out a single, loud cackle before leaning forward and stubbing out his blunt in the ashtray. He folded his arms behind his head and leaned back with a wide grin.

    “What did you tell him?”

    “That it had absolutely no merit!”

    “I don’t know, Bits,” Shitty said. “I saw some pretty serious heart eyes thrown in your direction from a certain Mr. Poindexter.”

    “Oh my God,” Eric said, throwing a hand over his face to hide how red he knew he was turning. “Make this stop. It’s a nightmare. I have no idea where this is even coming from.”

    Shitty frowned, growing suddenly serious. Eric wasn’t sure how high he really was - it was always impossible to tell until Shitty passed out, but he seemed to be at least sober enough to be considering the situation after the initial hilarity wore off.

    “Did you ever talk to Nursey after the team banquet last year?” he asked, surprising Eric a moment later.

    “About what?”

    “You know, debrief over the whole fucking thing,” Shitty said, waving his hand around.   “Tell him he would have been a great choice too and all that.”

    “Oh,” Eric said. “No. Not really. I thought it would be better if he had some space to process it and then, you know, graduation and...I don’t know, I guess it just fell off my radar.”

    He frowned too. He really had meant to talk to Nursey about the captaincy before last semester ended but it had seemed like everything from the banquet forward was at high speed and he’d been doing all he could just to keep up.

    “Shit,” Eric said.

    Shitty pointed at Eric and waved his finger for a moment before speaking, obviously taking a minute to marshal his thoughts.

    “Don’t you fucking dare, Bitty,” Shitty said. “That wasn’t a fucking invitation to blame yourself. I was just suggesting that maybe what our baby Nurse needs is his old Captain to tell him he would have done a good job and the other stuff can fucking sort itself out without your help.”

    “Yeah,” Eric agreed out loud, although secretly his stomach was still sliding its way down to his feet in absolute mortification. “It was never this hard to talk to him when we were all still in the Haus. I wish I was still there.”

    He wanted to take back the admission as soon as he said it. It felt like a weakness to say it, especially to Shitty who had seemed to make the transition from Haus to law school without much trouble, straddling the divide between teammate and alumni without trouble.

    “Come on, Bits,” Shitty said in a soft voice. His arm slung its way around Eric’s shoulder and pulled him in for a tight side-hug. Eric let himself sink into Shitty’s side miserably. “You know things can’t be that simple anymore. It’s different.”

    “It was never different for you,” Eric said, although he knew it wasn’t a fair comparison. It just needed to be said.

    “Nah, bro, it was,” Shitty said. He ruffled Eric’s hair. “It killed me to go back to the Haus and see you boys having so much fucking fun without me. Felt like a fucking betrayal of epic proportions the first time I went to a kegster and I realized you all had put frogs on tub juice duty.”

    Eric laughed at the memory of Shitty drunkenly confiscating a ladle from Chowder. He leaned forward and away from Shitty to grab his almost empty glass and poured himself another full bit of wine from the bottle he had brought out before taking a long sip.

    “We did that because we all knew how disgusting that tub was,” Eric said. “You were the only one with the constitution to even handle it and the frogs didn’t know any better.”

    “It fucking wounded me, man,” Shitty said in an overly affected voice. Eric shoved him gently, laughing into his wine.

    They were quiet for a moment before Shitty let loose a long-suffering sigh.

    “When you asked for client-attorney privilege, I thought you were finally going to tell me how you convinced Kent fucking Parson to follow you on Twitter,” he said. It had been a topic of intense scrutiny for almost two weeks now and Shitty had led the charge for information, spurred on by Holster’s encouragement in the group chat.

    Eric hid his smile with another drink of wine. The wine was starting to creep up on him now, his skin warm and soft to the touch.

    “I’m taking that to my grave,” he said seriously, crossing his heart in a somewhat clumsy gesture.

    “Who even are you anymore, Bits?” Shitty said, shaking his head woefully.

  


\--

 

**Episode 6.10 - How to Pickle Anything**

 

[ _...I’m trying hard not to feel disappointed that Ransom and Holster can’t make it down for our season opener this Friday. I was really looking forward to seeing them again, but they’re going to catch us up in New York when we play Clarkson later this month instead, like the responsible and beholden adults they are. God, what has become of them? I should send a care package their way, especially for poor Ransom. I think med school is really taking its toll on his sanity. The other day we were Skyping and he fell asleep mid-sentence! I had to text Holster to make sure he didn’t drool all over his laptop…_ ]

 

\--

  


    Samwell’s first game of the season was a disaster, but they somehow eke out a win over Northeastern with a 2-1 win to open the season. Watching the game from the bench had been harder than Eric thought it would be. His teeth had been on edge as he watched the Wellies turn the puck over again and again. Their only saving grace had been Chowder, sharp and menacing in the net as always. Eric hoped they would have a better team in front of him going into their conference games next month.

    After the game, Murray and Hall both clapped Eric on the back and, as though they could read his mind, told him not to take it too hard. Their parting words to the team had not been nearly as kind and Eric was glad he wasn’t on the receiving end of the lecture that followed the game. Despite their win, Eric suspected the Haus would be a dour place to be after the game. The plan had originally been to invite Dex, Nursey and Chowder out to drinks with Shitty and Lardo, but the looks on their faces in the locker room told Eric that the plan was bust. He busied himself with checking equipment and turning in his game notes to Hall before taking off to find Shitty and Lardo in the stands where he knew they would still be.

    He spotted them both easily, their heads were bent down to talk to someone sitting in front of them. Shitty was waving his hands animatedly, a clear sign that he had already had a drink or two. Eric smiled at the sight and shook off some of his disappointment before hopping over the barricade and heading into the stands.

    “Hey, you guys ready to go?” he asked once he was in earshot. Lardo turned to wave him over and Eric’s stomach dropped in a not unpleasant way when he saw who she had been talking to. Jack Zimmermann gave him a small awkward wave and Eric waved back.

    “Ch'yeah, man,” Lardo said as he drew near, punching Eric on the arm before he could properly greet Jack. “Let’s celebrate. What’d you do with the frogs?”

    Eric groaned and let his head drop onto her shoulder.

    “Trust me when I say you would not want their company after the earful they just got from Hall and Murray,” he said. She nodded solemnly, as if the thought hadn’t even occurred to her. Shitty laughed, a short burst of mirth that Eric recognized as the same gladness he had felt to not be a part of the group being lectured. Eric turned to Jack, who looked decidedly uncomfortable, standing there with his hands in his pockets and looking as though he were thinking about slinking away without a word. “Hey, Jack, I didn’t know you were coming.”

    Jack shrugged, but stepped back more decisively into the small circle.

    “Thought it was about time I came to one of these, eh?” he said.

    "We found this fucker lurking alone down here and adopted him," Shitty interjected. "Turns out he knows a thing or two about hockey. Who knew?"

    “Wish we’d played a little better for you,” Eric said to Jack, letting a sigh escape. Lardo bumped his shoulder again and he pouted at her before relenting with a smile.

    “It’s the first game of the season,” Jack said. “They’ll tighten up.”

    “We going to Jerry’s for a few drinks if you want to come.” The invitation is out of his mouth before Eric can even second-guess himself. He glanced over at his friends for support and Shitty clapped Jack on the back without hesitation.

    “You should for sure come, bro,” Shitty said. “I’ve been trying to get Bitty to drop your pie feud for like, months. You gotta take this rare opportunity.”

    “Pie feud?” Jack asked, looking in question at Eric.

    Eric crossed his arms defiantly.

    “The feud stands until Mr. Zimmermann apologizes for calling my pies, and I quote, ‘not worth eating’ during playoffs last year,” Eric said with as much authority as he could muster. Jack looked perplexed by the entire scenario until Eric winked at him slyly.

    “Ah” Jack said, shaking his head as though remembering something unpleasant.  “They shouldn’t have been eating it right before a game. All that sugar would crash their systems.”

    Eric opened his mouth to retort when Shitty threw an arm around his shoulder and Jack’s drawing them to either side of him.

    “Boys, boys,” Shitty said. “Can’t we put aside this enmity for one night and celebrate a win for the fucking home opener of my beloved Samwell Men’s Hockey team?”

    Eric sighed dramatically and twisted himself out of Shitty’s reach. He made a point to smooth his hair down before linking his arm with Lardo’s.

    “Fine,” he agreed with an air of grievance. “But only because I promised his _only friend_ that I would make sure he got out of the house more often.”

    “He’s not my only friend,” Jack said with a laugh of disbelief.

    “Close enough probably,” Eric muttered as he turned away. Jack’s laugh followed him and Lardo out of the stadium.

 

\--

  


    Later that night, the four of them had found a corner booth at Jerry’s that was near the dartboards in the back of the dim restaurant. Shitty and Lardo were taking turns throwing darts, although Shitty’s were much more likely to hit the wall than the bull's eye from what Eric could tell. Jack had stepped outside a few minutes before to take a call, speaking in a stream of unintelligible words in what Eric thought was French. Eric was holding down the table alone as he scrolled through his Twitter feed and watched Lardo kick Shitty’s ass in darts.

    “Sorry about that,” Jack said, startling Eric as he slid back into the booth across him. His accent was noticeably thicker on the _r_ ’s of sorry than usual and Eric swallowed down a chirp about it. Instead he put his phone to sleep and slid it in his pocket, smiling at Jack.

    “I’ve never actually heard you speak French before, you know?” he said. “I mean, I knew you did. Your accent and the whole Québec thing.”

    “Québec,” Jack corrected, emphasizing the first syllable. “Not Kwa-beck.” He did a terrible imitation of Eric’s accent which made Eric almost choke on the swallow of beer in his mouth. He held a finger while he swallowed and then laughed before trying out the word again.

    “Québec,” he echoed. Jack looked for a second as though he might further correct Eric’s pronunciation, but didn’t. Instead, he settled back into the booth and took a swig from his own beer.

    “I don’t get much opportunity to speak French down here,” Jack offered after a moment. His accent was back to normal levels, the momentary thickness of it forgotten. He looked down at his beer bottle instead of at Eric as he spoke. “The only person I really speak it with anymore is my dad.”

    Eric hesitated and then frowned.

    “That’s a shame,” he said. “I would offer to speak it with you, but I almost didn’t graduate because of how badly I did in French.”

    “Shocking, Bittle,” Jack chuckled, his shoulders shaking with his laughter and when he looked at Eric, his eyes were sharp and clear.

    “Hush,” Eric said. “I’ll have you know that my degree is hanging proudly on the wall in my apartment, so I had the last laugh, Monsieur Zimmermann. _Merci beaucoup_.”

    Jack’s face contorted in amusement again, but he didn’t argue or correct what even Eric knew was terrible pronunciation. A comfortable silence fell between them as Jack picked at the label on his beer bottle and Eric watched him while pretending to be drinking his own. He cleared his throat after a moment.

    “Can I ask you something personal?” Eric asked, biting his lip. When Jack looked up and shrugged, Eric took it as permission. “How’d you end up down here at Samwell? Seems like all your family is up in Canada, so why here?”

    Jack opened his mouth and then closed it again, pursing his lips. He looked at Eric appraisingly and for a moment, Eric thought that Jack wasn’t going to answer at all because he didn’t like what he saw but then his expression cleared.

    “My mom went to Samwell and loved it,” he said. “She used to tell stories about it all the time. When the job came up, it seemed like...I don’t know, it just seemed _good_.”

    “Yeah,” Eric agreed. Jack was looking out into the darkened window next to their booth, his face half in shadows, but Eric could see the thoughtful tilt of his mouth. “And has it been? Good, I mean?”

    Jack looked over to him, obviously startled by the question. His forehead crinkled as though he was seriously considering the question.

    “It’s getting better,” he said finally.

    He smiled at Eric and Eric couldn’t resist smiling back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Did Shitty, seeing Jack Zimmermann sitting alone at a hockey game, take it upon himself to drag Jack up to their seats and talk his ear off for the entire game? Yes, yes he did. Did Jack kind of like it? ....yes. Despite his reluctance to come to games, Jack still loves hockey and anyone who can talk about hockey as much as Shitty can without ever once mentioning The Draft can definitely stay. 
> 
> \- Are Bitty and Jack friends now? I mean, yeah, kind of. I don't think they know that they're friends yet, but they totally are. It sneaks up on you sometimes. 
> 
> \- Parse?? Dude. I can't tell you everything. You'll see him again.
> 
> Up Next: Hockey players are amazed by the sudden, inexplicable friendliness that permeates the air at their previously slightly hostile nutrition seminars, more hockey, Holster and Ransom (probably?)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiiiiiiiiiii, did you know i slayed a dragon in order to write this chapter? totally true story.

When Eric walked into the large conference room of the athletics building that morning, most of the team was already there. To his embarrassment, he realized shortly afterwards that not only were they all there, they were all talking about  _ him _ . In particular, it seemed that Twitter was the hot topic of the day.

Kent Parson following Eric on Twitter had gone mostly unnoticed for the first several weeks by the world at large and then with the capricious flick of a wrist, some anonymous stranger had posted a screenshot of Kent liking several of Eric’s tweets about Samwell games and the internet had exploded with speculation. It was like living the release day of his  _ Outsports  _ article all over again. Most people just wanted to know if Kent actually knew Eric personally and a few speculated that Kent was looking to recruit him to the Aces’ affiliate team. A smaller, but dedicated group didn’t care what Kent was doing, but they cared a whole awful lot about the  _ Outsports _ article and made their opinion known by tweeting at Eric at all hours of the day. 

His friends, both current and past members of the SMH team, seemed to all think it was hilarious retribution for Eric refusing to tell them about Kent Parson’s visit to Faber (no matter how many times he protested that he hadn’t known ahead of time and that they should really be bugging Jack). To their credit, they also seemed to have formed an army of Twitter accounts to shout down any rude trolls. They were loudly discussing their best takedowns that morning as Eric settled his stuff in the back of the room that they had stuffed the team into for their monthly nutrition seminar with Jack. 

Eric pulled out a team roster from his bag and effectively brought an end to the team’s discussion by demanding that the boys all sign themselves in. There was a mad scramble to the end of the table and while the team was scuffling with each other over spare pens, Eric made his way up to the front of the classroom where Jack frowned at him from behind a computer. His expression cleared when Eric pulled a face at him in return. Eric was beginning to suspect Jack didn’t even realize he was frowning half the time. 

“What’s on your agenda today, Mr. Zimmermann?” Eric asked as he leaned against the table next to Jack. 

“I thought I would start us off with a guided discussion about appropriate times and places to eat baked goods,” Jack replied, not looking up from where he was typing on his computer. Eric was so taken aback by the flat tone that he almost missed Jack’s tiny smile of victory. 

“This is why there’s a standing pie feud,” Eric said. He tried to pull his face into a scowl, but he could feel his lips turning up in a laugh the moment that Jack looked up from his computer and shrugged a single shoulder in obvious dismissal of him. 

“Your idea of a feud is to send your goalie with three pies to my first day of class, Bittle,” Jack said. “I’m hardly shaking in my boots.”

“That was just my opening volley,” Eric sniffed, not willing to admit that Jack probably had a point. 

He turned on his heel and headed towards the back of the conference room before he lost his composure and laughed, but he knew without even looking that Jack was smirking at him. Eric always took a seat at the very back of the room for these required seminars so he could keep an eye on them during the lecture. The seminars always made him feel more like a glorified chaperone than a coaching assistant, but he knew it could be worse.

For the next hour, Eric sat and listened to Jack talk about the importance of maintaining weight during season and how to retain muscle. The boys were, for the most part, avidly interested and even Eric had to admit that the lectures had improved somewhat. 

“Put you to sleep a bit at the end there, Bittle?” Jack asked after he made his way to where Eric was sitting as the room cleared out quickly around them. Eric leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and yawned pointedly.

“Absolutely,” he said. “It would have been way better with a break for pie to keep their spirits up. You could really see them flagging when you were talking about macros there at the end.”

Jack winced and looked over his shoulder, his eyes tracking the last of the players as they left the room. He cleared his throat and looked back to Eric. Eric raised a brow in question.

“I, uh, heard what the boys were saying about Twitter,” he said and his face creased in a real frown this time. “That Kent following you caused some problems?”

“Oh.” Eric flushed and looked away. “I’m sure they were exaggerating. You know how those boys get when it comes to bragging rights and all.”

“Bittle,” Jack said. He pulled out one of the chairs from the long table and sat next to Eric. “If it’s a problem, he can unfollow you.”

“Jack,” Eric said. “I appreciate the sentiment, really, but it’s fine. It’s actually gained me a ton of new followers and it’s been fun. Besides, there’s nothing the trolls can say to me that I haven’t heard before.”

“That doesn’t mean they should have a platform to say it,” Jack said.

“Well, that’s Twitter for you,” Eric said, standing up with a shrug. 

Jack opened his mouth to argue that point, but Eric laid a hand on his shoulder and Jack closed his mouth. He glanced sideways at where Eric’s hand rested on his shoulder and looked a little surprised at the contact. Eric quickly let his hand drop away.

“Jack, it’s sweet of you to worry, but I promise it’s no big deal,” Eric said again before grabbing his bag and turning to leave. He paused at the door, looking back to where Jack was still watching him from his seat.

“I’ll see you when we get back from our roadie, yeah?” Eric asked, feeling as though it were an olive branch even if it hadn’t really been a fight. Jack’s shoulders relaxed a little and he stood up from the chair with a small nod.

“Of course,” he said. 

Two days later, Kent sent him a DM on Twitter out of the blue. 

 

> **KVP ♠️:**
> 
> _ hey sorry about that _
> 
> _ should have asked before i followed and stuff _

 

Then five minutes later,

 

> **KVP ♠️:**
> 
> _ i can unfollow if you want _

  
  


Eric read the message from his seat on the bus as they trucked up to New York for their road games. He smiled down at his phone, thinking immediately of Jack. He tapped his phone against his mouth a few times before looking at the message again and typing out a response.

 

>   **Eric Bittle:**
> 
> _ Did Jack tell you to ask me that? _
> 
> **KVP ♠️:**
> 
>    _ no _
> 
> _ he told me to just unfollow. i added in the ask. :) _
> 
>  
> 
> **Eric Bittle:**
> 
> __ _Thanks, but it’s fine. Don’t worry about it._
> 
>  
> 
>   **KVP ♠️:**
> 
> _ k cool _
> 
> _ gl on the game tonight _

  
  


\--

 

The team bus pulled into their hotel by early afternoon that day and Eric was charged with checking the team into their block of rooms while Murray and Hall corralled all the boys in the lobby with their equipment. It was a stretch to fit over 20 hockey players into any lobby, but the run-down and sparse furniture that this hotel offered was particularly cramped once the entire team had squeezed itself inside. The young attendant behind the desk looked so wide-eyed at their sudden appearance that Eric almost told her to take a deep breath when he handed over their reservation details, but a manager appeared a moment later to help and keys were issued in quick succession. 

Eric had spent the better part of the bus ride up re-arranging the sleeping arrangements, because according to a report from Chowder, things had only gotten worse between Nursey and Dex at the Haus. It had started spilling out onto the ice as well, if Eric was being honest. 

As soon as Hall saw that Eric had all the keys, he ordered silence among the team and gave them their marching orders before the mad scramble for their rooms began. They needed to be on the ice for a quick afternoon practice before their game this evening. Once he was done, Hall motioned Eric forward and Eric read names from his clipboard and handed out the keys. 

He couldn’t help but notice the flicker of a frown on Murray’s face when he paired Dex with one of the juniors, Scabby, but he carried on down the list without pausing until he got to Nursey and Chowder. If Nursey was surprised by the disruption of his usual room assignment, he didn’t look it as he plucked the key from Eric’s hand, but Eric thought that Chowder might have warned them both it was happening because Dex had made Scabby grab the key in his place. 

As soon as the team had cleared the lobby, Murray gestured him over with a meaningful nod and Eric took a seat with the two coaches in one of the few armchairs in the lobby.

“Want to tell us what’s going on between Poindexter and Nurse?” Hall asked as soon as Eric sat down.

Eric sighed and ran a hand through his hair before setting his clipboard on the small coffee table and sitting back. He thought for a long moment before replying, wanting to make sure he had the right words. 

“Another team member expressed to me that they might be better separated for at least this trip since they had a falling out,” Eric said as diplomatically as possible. 

“And what does Chow think they’re fighting about?” Murray asked, leaning forward with concern and completely skipping over the fact that Eric hadn’t named any names. 

Eric winced. He knew that it was probably obvious that Chowder had been the informant, but he had still wanted to keep the goalie out of the crossfire if possible. 

“He’s not entirely sure,” Eric admitted truthfully. “He thought it had something to do with the captaincy, but I talked to both of them and it’s not that. It’s...not hockey-related, as far as I can tell.”

“Hmm, well it becomes hockey-related the moment they bring onto the ice.” Hall tapped his fingers on his knee and frowned. “This isn’t the first I’ve seen of it, so it looks like they need some help getting their heads out of their asses.”

“I was planning on having a late dinner with Ransom and Holster after the game tonight. I can ask them to have a word,” Eric said quickly. “They were actually hoping they could take the old Haus boys out for brunch tomorrow, but I told them it would depend on how the game goes tonight.”

“As long as you have them back for morning skate, it’s fine,” Murray said. “Maybe those two can impart some sense into their legacy.”

Hall snorted doubtfully and Eric privately agreed, but didn’t say so. 

They moved on to last minute strategy review for the next hour as they waited for the team to return downstairs for their afternoon practice.

  
  


\--

 

Ransom and Holster’s plan was basically kidnapping, but Eric thought that maybe extreme measures were necessary after the game the night before. Dex and Nursey had been a disaster on ice together, skating as though they were playing against each other instead of the other team. The rest of the team had been confused and scattered as a result and Samwell had lost 4-1 in an unusually brutal game for so early in the season. 

Hall had been livid with the two d-men, but hadn’t expressly revoked Eric’s permission to take them to brunch the next morning so late that night, Eric had resolved together with Ransom and Holster to take a divide and conquer approach in the morning. Ransom and Holster had taken the spare bed in Eric’s room after a late night of plotting and catching up. 

The next morning, Eric texted Chowder an abbreviated version of the plan and waited. Chowder, reliable as always, texted Eric shortly after that at 8:30 to let them know that Nursey had just gotten into the shower. By the time Nursey got out, Chowder had decamped to Eric’s room and Holster had taken his place, waiting to ambush Nursey. Extracting Dex turned out to be trickier, but Ransom finally texted thirty minutes later that he had managed to nab Dex before he could get downstairs to breakfast and the plan was officially in motion.

“Ransom has Dex,” Eric announced to Chowder, who was flipping through channels on the TV from Eric’s bed. 

“Oh thank God,” Chowder said, immediately throwing the remote aside. “Now what?”

“Now, we wait,” Eric said and threw himself on the other bed. 

Chowder nodded and picked up the remote from where he’d tossed it on the bed. He handed it across the divide to Eric who took it and started flipping through channels himself trying to find something that wasn’t a morning talk show. 

“Do you think we should go down to team breakfast if we’re here?” Chowder asked after a few minutes of watching Eric decide what they should watch.

“No,” Eric sighed. “I thought about it, but I think it would just draw unnecessary attention to the fact that Dex and Nursey are missing. If we’re gone too, then people just think we all went out together and nothing’s wrong.”

Chowder exhaled loudly and nodded again.

“You’re right,” he said. “Totally.”

Eric could see him almost vibrating out of the corner of his eye and sighed again.

“Chowder?” Eric said. “What is it?”

“It’s just that I’m starving,” Chowder said in a rush. His eyes were wide and worried as he looked over to Eric. As if to punctuate his point, Chowder’s stomach growled loudly. Chowder hung his head in shame. “Sorry, Bitty.”

Eric couldn’t help the strangled laugh that escaped him. He checked the time on his phone and then shrugged.

“We’re going to have to go out the back door,” he said. “And possibly pretend that we haven’t eaten yet when we meet up with the others. You know how Holster gets about brunch.”

Chowder nodded more enthusiastically than ever and jumped up from the bed to begin stuffing his feet into his tennis shoes. Eric slid off of his bed as well and rummaged through his bag to find a pullover and fresh socks. They were outside and on the street within minutes and Chowder was bouncing gently up and down on the his feet as Eric looked up coffee shops within walking distance. Ransom and Holster were supposed to be coming back to meet them at a restaurant around the corner that did a “wicked mean brunch according to Yelp, bro” by 10:30, but that was almost an hour and a half away.

“There’s a Starbucks two blocks from here,” Eric announced triumphantly and Chowder sighed in relief before craning his neck to look at the map over Eric’s shoulder. 

They set off in the direction of the Starbucks, chattering with each other about game strategy and NHL stats and when they ran out of Sharks players to dissect, the conversation finally turned back to Nursey and Dex.

“Do you think they’re going to be okay?” Chowder asked after a lull in the conversation. 

“Hmm?” Eric asked, looking up from his Twitter feed that he had pulled out when Chowder started waxing poetic about Martin Jones approximately twenty minutes before. “Who? The Sharks? Yeah, they’re doing fine.”

“No, Bitty,” Chowder said, spreading both of his hands down on the table and leaning forward. “Nursey and Dex.”

“Oh,” Eric said. He slid his phone in his pocket after quickly checking for any missed messages. He had expected to hear from Ransom and Holster by then, but both of them had been silent since they had all parted ways that morning. It was nearly 9:30. 

Just then, his phone buzzed.

 

> **HOLSTER:**
> 
> _ Headed back with Nursey now. Want to meet at Antoine’s? _

 

Eric hurried to respond and then showed it to Chowder who looked visibly relieved. They both threw their empty cups away and started the long walk towards the restaurant that Holster had chosen for their rendezvous. By the time they arrived, Holster and Nursey had already grabbed a table and Ransom had texted that he was en route with Dex. 

Chowder slid eagerly into the booth next to Nursey, but Eric took his seat a little more hesitantly. Nursey looked a little rumpled and he was clutching his cup of coffee so tightly that Eric could see his knuckles. It was decidedly uncharacteristic of him. 

“Yo Bitty, Chowder,” Nursey said, offering a fist bump to each of them. 

Holster cleared his throat pointedly and Nursey rolled his eyes.

“Chill, man. I was getting there,” Nursey said. He looked down at the table and then after a moment, he looked back up and there was a seriousness on his face that was usually reserved for the ice. “I apologize for letting a personal fight with Dex affect the team and for dragging both of you into it. Bitty, I also apologize for saying you threw the captaincy to Dex. I know you better than that, bro, and it was shitty of me to say that.”

Eric blinked at Nursey and then threw a glance at Holster who was clapping Nursey on the back in ‘proud dad’ gesture. It was clearly a scripted moment, but Eric couldn’t say he didn’t appreciate the apology either. 

“Uh, thanks, Nursey,” Eric said carefully. “I’ve just been concerned about you and Dex and I thought -- Well, I don’t know what I thought. I just wanted to fix it.”

“It’s chill, man,” Nursey said with a shrug. 

Before Eric could say anything further, Dex and Ransom appeared at the table. Dex didn’t sit down, but loomed awkwardly over the table as Ransom slid into the large booth. Dex’s shoulders were hunched and his face was clouded with emotion. He had eyes only for Nursey.

“Can we talk?” Dex asked Nursey across the table. “Alone?”

“Yeah, man,” Nursey said and bumped his shoulder against Chowder’s to nudge the goalie out of the booth. Chowder immediately complied with a small squeak and Nursey climbed out quickly. “Wanna go outside?”

“Yeah,” Dex agreed and then with a small wave to the rest of the table, he turned and left just as quickly as he had appeared.

“Sooo,” Ransom said, snagging a menu from the middle of the table. “Yeah. $10 says they’re not coming back.”

“Bro, in that case, I call dibs on Nursey’s pancake stack,” Holster said.

“Bro, don’t be like that,” Ransom said.

“Fine, we’ll share. 50/50.”

“‘’Swawesome.”

Dex and Nursey never made it back to brunch and Eric didn’t see them again until afternoon practice skate where they were both subdued and quiet, but also, notably, not fighting or ignoring each other. Ransom and Holster were annoyingly tight-lipped about their methods, but whatever they had done or said to their younger counterparts, it seemed to have worked for now. 

 

\--

 

“Do you think this is too sexy for a staff Halloween party?” Eric asked, holding a woman’s bunny costume up to his body and frowning down at it. 

Lardo, looking up from the make-up rack nearby, quirked a single eyebrow at him before turning back to the face paint options. He sighed heavily and put it back on the rack. 

“What am I going to wear, Lardo?” he whined and hooked his chin on her shoulder. She leaned her head against his and craned her arm around to pat him on the side of the head. 

“I could make you a zombie,” she said, pulling a green and brown palette from the wall and waving it in front of them. 

“Boring,” Eric said. “Plus I’d probably get trapped in some conversation about that one show and you know I don’t watch it.”

Lardo rolled her eyes and Eric sighed again. He was in an especially dramatic mood that day.

“Are you sure you even need a costume for this thing?” Lardo asked. She had picked up a package of fake blood capsules and put it in the small shopping basket that swung on her arm. “What if it’s like...just a grab a piece of cake and go party?”

Eric frowned and fidgeted with a few hangers on the rack in front of him.

“I think it’s a real party,” Eric said. “Jack said -”

“Oh,” Lardo cut him off. “In that case, I think that sexy bunny costume is perfect.”

Eric put both of his hands on his hips and huffed.

“Larissa Duan,” he said in his best imitation of his mother. She was entirely unaffected, smirking up at him. She reached around him to try to find it on the rack. Eric swatted her hand away and she laughed, punching him on the arm in retaliation.

Jack had casually corrected Shitty the week before when Shitty had made an offhand comment about how Jack should get himself a girlfriend. Jack had shrugged and then with an almost indetectable blush had added, “Or boyfriend.” There had been a beat of silence as Shitty absorbed the information and then Shitty had grinned, wide and effusive, and slapped Jack on the back. It had made Eric’s mouth go dry and he’d ducked his head to look at his phone while Shitty carried on about how Jack being bisexual meant his dating pool was twice as large and Jack had shrugged, looking unconvinced. He had made eye contact with Eric a moment later and Eric could still remember the way his stomach had dropped into the floor when it happened. 

Eric touched the hanger of the bunny costume now, thinking of that moment, before shaking his head and moving on the next aisle of costumes. Nothing in the large thrift store was catching his eye as wandered from rack to rack aimlessly. 

Lardo appeared suddenly at his side some time later with a long wig of red hair and a dress.

“Bits, do you still have that frilly apron thing?” she asked, giving him an evaluative once-over as she fit the wig on his head. He leaned down obligingly to let her adjust it. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Why?”

“I’ve got a great idea,” Lardo announced, guiding him forcefully over to a mirror and holding the retro blue dress up in front of him with a grin.

 

\--

  
  
  


It wasn’t hard to spot Jack in the crowd at the Halloween party. Eric zeroed in on him almost immediately and Jack waved from across the lawn, obviously undeterred by the wig. Eric waved back, trying not to smirk at Jack’s “costume”. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt and headband of cat ears with delicate black whiskers drawn on his face. Eric wondered if Jack had drawn them himself. 

Before he could cross the lawn to chirp Jack about it, Alex Evans from the football coaching staff grabbed him by the arm.

“Bittle!” Evans boomed, throwing an arm around Eric’s shoulders. “How you feeling about them Gators?”

Eric forced himself to relax and tried not be obvious as he ducked out from under Evans’ arm. 

“Oh, not too kindly,” he answered with a rueful smile. The Gators had trounced Georgia in their annual match-up earlier in the week. He had watched every painful moment of the match with his dad through Skype and then dissected it afterwards. 

Evans ruffled his hair and laughed, guiding him over to where a few of the other younger staff stood around chatting over beer. Eric stopped himself from looking over his shoulder for Jack and instead took a proffered beer and dove into the football talk. 

“Alright, Bittle,” Evans announced some time later as they drifted together back towards the drinks table with a few others.  “I’ve been trying to work it out myself, but I’m crying uncle. What are you supposed to be?”

Evans reached to tug at Eric’s wig and Eric forced himself to laugh, stepping just out of Evans’ arm’s reach. The dark red wig had been curled and sprayed into place by Lardo earlier that afternoon and his head had been itching all night because of it. He flushed as he looked down at the frilly apron and dress he had on, thinking for the first time that it might have been a bad idea to crossdress for a party like this. 

“Oh, uh,” Eric stammered. “Bitty Crocker?”

He didn’t mean for it to come out as a question, but he was hit with a sudden reminder of just how large Evans was as the other man loomed over him in the now dark yard with only dim orange party lights to illuminate his features. Evans smiled and Eric probably imagined it, but the smile seemed almost ghoulish for a second before it transformed again into something more genial.

“Oh, she’s the cake chick, right?” Evans said, laughing again as though Eric had told a great joke. “Betty Crocker, huh, that’s a good one.”

Eric didn’t explain the pun that Evans had missed. Instead, he leaned down to fish through one of the coolers under the guise of finding a certain beer. He knew he was being a little ridiculous but he felt unnerved for no particular reason. He stood up and shook his shoulders out before smiling at Evans.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to go say hello to a few more people,” Eric said before abruptly wheeling around and away from Evans, leaving him by the drinks table and not looking back as he pushed past a few groups of people. He didn’t have any real direction except  _ away _ until a hand landed on his arm and halted his progress gently. He looked up into Jack Zimmermann’s concerned eyes.

“Something wrong, Bittle?” Jack asked quietly. His eyes tracked over to where Eric had come from and he frowned. 

“No, no,” Eric said, feeling a rush of embarrassed shame. “It’s nothing. I just need some air.”

“Okay,” Jack said, but didn’t let go of Eric’s arm. Instead, he steered him towards the gate at the side of the yard and suddenly, they were in the dark back alley that ran behind the house and the party was nothing but a hum behind them. 

Eric sank down on a low stone wall that framed the driveway on one side and Jack sat next to him after a moment of hesitation.

“Thanks, Jack,” Eric said with a sigh. He rubbed the back of his neck. He was already feeling more than silly about the sudden panic that he’d felt from a simple question. He hoped Evans had just accepted his excuse or maybe thought that Eric was more drunk than he’d let on. 

”I…” Eric started, but then didn’t know how to put it into words.

“You don’t have to explain,” Jack said with a shrug. 

Eric frowned but nodded gratefully. He sighed again and looked up at the sky, letting a silence fall between them. Jack cleared his throat and then stood without warning.

“I’ll be right back,” Jack said, ambling back inside the gate and leaving Eric alone on the back driveway. Eric stared after him for a second before letting out a long breath and looping his arms around his knees. He let his head fall on his knees and focused on breathing. 

It took Jack several minutes to return and Eric didn’t look up immediately when he did until Jack sat down again and nudged his shoulder. Eric looked up to see Jack holding out a plate of the pumpkin pie that Eric had made for the party, a fork balancing precariously on the edge of the paper plate. When he didn’t immediately take it, Jack shifted uncomfortably.

“You brought me pie?” Eric asked, not sure what to make of the offer. He took the plate slowly out of Jack’s hands, twirling the fork in his fingers. 

“You said that pie always made things better,” Jack said, a small frown dragging at the edge of his mouth. Eric looked from the pie to Jack and then back again in disbelief. He nodded slowly, remembering that night at a different party and a different house almost two months ago. 

“I guess I did,” he finally agreed.

Jack relaxed a little beside him and Eric smiled down at his plate. He felt a little overwhelmed by the strange bloom of warmth in his chest and thought maybe he was a little more drunk than he’d originally thought after all. He took a bite of pie and sighed. It was a damn good pie, if he did say so himself. 

Jack let him eat in silence and Eric took his time, savoring each bite. When he was done, he set the empty plate to the side and looked up at the stars which were just beginning to glow in the night sky. Jack was looking up at them too, which made sneaking a few looks at his moonlit profile much easier. Eric took his time before speaking again.

“Lardo said if this party’s lame, I should just ditch and go help her with trick-or-treaters,” Eric said, leaning against the wall next to Jack. “But I don’t know, I spent so long getting ready.”

“Sounds like a nice backup plan,” Jack said after a moment. 

He looked over at Jack in time to see Jack’s throat bob, which sent a thrill of attraction through Eric followed by immediate guilt. They were friends now. That’s what this was. That’s  _ all  _ this was. Eric had no right going around being attracted to Jack Zimmermann like that. He tore his eyes away and looked back towards the gate.

“What’s your backup plan?” Eric asked, trying not to sound as breathless as he felt. 

“Huh?” Jack said and then shook his head. “Oh, I guess...to just go home?”

Eric snorted.

“I’m not great at...parties,” Jack said and gestured towards the party that they had both abandoned for the dark driveway. 

“So I gathered,” Eric said, ribbing him lightly in the side. 

Jack smiled softly and looked down at his lap. It was almost physically painful to Eric how attractive he looked sitting there next to him, bathed in the strange moonlight and glow of a distant porchlight. Even with the stupid cat ears.

“Hey, Jack?” he asked. 

Jack looked up in question, his eyebrows raising.

“I think I’m going to call it a night,” Eric said, losing his nerve as he looked into Jack’s eyes. He licked his lips and looked away.

“Oh, right,” Jack said.

Eric stood up, brushing off his apron and smoothing the now wrinkled skirt of his costume. Jack stood as well and stuffed his hands in his pockets as he hovered by the wall. Eric rocked back and forth on his heels for a moment uncertainly before stepping forward to hug Jack. For a moment, Jack didn’t move but then his arms came up and hugged Eric tightly for a moment before letting go. Eric stepped back, thankful for the dark so Jack couldn’t see his blush. 

“So, um, goodnight,” Eric said. “Thanks for the pie.”

“It was your pie,” Jack pointed out, but Eric could tell he was smiling by the way he said it,

“Well, thanks for thinking of it,” Eric said. 

“Of course.”

Eric hesitated for a moment and in a rush of bravery, said, “We should get a picture before I go. It’s not often I see proof that Jack Zimmermann participated in a fun activity.”

Jack looked taken-aback for a moment before he smiled and looked down at the ground. Eric fished his phone out of his dress pocket and waved Jack closer. Jack came obediently and stood close to Eric as Eric brought the camera up.

“Closer,” Eric ordered as he tried to frame their faces with just the porch light for illumination. Jack complied and Eric forced himself not to jump when Jack’s hand rested lightly on the small of his back. Jack had a serious expression on his face when Eric started to count down to the picture. Eric stopped, lowering the camera for a moment. 

“You have to smile or it’s no good,” Eric said. Jack chuckled behind him. Eric glanced sideways at Jack and smiled before raising the camera again. “Okay, for real this time.”

Jack smiled right when the flash went off.

Eric lowered the camera and pulled up the picture for inspection. He was doing his best to ignore the fact that Jack hadn’t immediately stepped away or moved his hand from Eric’s back, but was instead looking over his shoulder at the picture. It was a good one, despite the dim lighting.

“Can you send that to me?” Jack asked, startling Eric, who had gotten lost in the details of the picture.

“Oh! Of course,” Eric said. He immediately pushed the share button and opened a blank text before remembering that he didn’t have Jack’s number. He handed his phone to Jack and waved. “You’ll have to put your number in for me.”

Jack nodded and typed it in quickly, hitting send on the message. He handed the phone back to Eric and their hands lingered a moment longer than necessary before Eric pulled back and stepped away. He slid the phone back in his pocket and patted down his skirt for something to do. He knew he should say goodbye, but something about the moment felt special and Eric didn’t want to see it end. 

“Do you want to come with me?” Eric asked hopefully. “You can help with the trick-or-treaters.”

Jack didn’t respond immediately, clearly thinking it over. Finally, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and shook his head after a long moment of deliberation.

“Not tonight, Bittle,” he said. “Some other time, eh? I’ll see you at the game Thursday.”

“Yeah,” Eric agreed quickly and took a few steps back. “See you then. Goodnight, Jack.”

He turned around and headed towards the gate, feeling a little stung at the rejection even though he knew he had no right to be.

“ _ Bonne nuit _ , Bittle,” Jack called softly after him just as he reached the gate. Eric paused at the door, biting back a sigh before stepping back into the party to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Thanksgiving?, Ransom and Holster's Top Secret Methods are called into question, and Eric lives in denial. 
> 
>  
> 
> \- Yes, I did steal Halloween costumes from the actual comic because I am both lazy and honestly, really bad at clever Halloween costumes. Bitty Crocker sounds cute as hell though. (I have two Halloween costumes that I alternate between, depending on appropriateness of venue and outside temperature.)
> 
> \- What's up with Dex and Nursey?? Oh come on. You *know*.
> 
> \- Wow, Bitty is in super denial about that one. ....Yes. Bitty lives in a state of denial about many things, I believe. It's okay. He'll learn.


	6. Chapter 6

> **@karlsenhockey**
> 
> _well now we know how parson knows the youcanplay kid_
> 
> **@karlsenhockey**
> 
> _looks like parson’s old bud jack zimmermann is working at the same college as a nutritionist of all things wtf_
> 
> **@karlsenhockey**
> 
> _youcanplay kid is now a coaching asst at samwell college outside of boston. wonder if he recruited zimms to teach him how to actually play_

 

“Well, that’s just rude,” Chowder said after Nursey read the tweets aloud in a Eric’s crowded hotel room. The pre-game show for the Aces’ game against the Kings was playing softly in the background as they all crowded onto the two double beds in the room. Eric had invited anyone who wanted to come to his room to watch the game that night since they’d finished arrived at the hotel just in time to catch it. They had a matinee game the next afternoon and at least if the boys were watching the game, they weren’t out breaking curfew somewhere else.

“You look fly in the pic, though, Bits,” Nursey said, tilting the phone towards Eric.

Eric groaned.

“God, how did they get that?”

It was a weird angle of Eric and Jack walking together on the quad after a nutrition seminar a few weeks ago. Eric supposed he should be thankful they caught a snap of him in normal clothes and not after a sweaty practice, but still.

“Some Wellie looking to make a buck, probably,” Dex said, barely looking up from his own phone.

“I’ve never even done anything for YouCanPlay,” Eric said, wrinkling his nose a little. “Would it kill him to do minimal googling?”

“Exactly!” Chowder agreed loudly and then, moderating his tone a little, he added, “And you don’t need anyone to teach you how to play.”

Eric patted Chowder’s knee fondly and smiled.

“Thanks, Chowder,” he said.

There was a knock on the door just then and Eric sprang up to let more boys in - two of the frogs this time, both with arms full of vending machine snacks. Eric ushered them in and closed the door behind them.

“Did you clean out the vending machine?” Dex asked as Whiskey started throwing bags to each outstretched hand.

“If you’re going to eat, do it on the other bed,” Eric said, shooing Nursey off of his bed. “I don’t want to sleep in a bed full of Doritos crumbs.”

“I can be careful,” Nursey said.

Dex snorted from the other bed. Nursey looked at him as though he were going to retort, but then didn’t and instead sank down to the floor in front of the bed, crossing his legs as he popped the bag open. Eric frowned at his back and glanced over at Dex who still had his nose buried in his phone. Both of them refused to talk about whatever had happened between them after Ransom and Holster had taken them aside and things were demonstrably better at practice and in games, but Eric wasn’t sure he really preferred this new arrangement either. A Nursey and Dex who were entirely non-confrontational with each other seemed alien after years of watching them bicker. Non-confrontational wasn’t even the right word for it. Dex was bristlier than ever, but instead of provoking like he normally would, Nursey was suddenly intent on letting everything go even when a jab might have been well-deserved.

“Who are we cheering for again?” Tony asked.

“Bitty’s boyfriend,” Nursey said from the floor. Eric lobbed a pillow at the back of his head and he made a muffled sound of protest as the chip in his hand went flying.

“You can cheer for whomever you’d like, Tango,” Eric said.

“Oh, uhhh -” Tango stammered, his eyes darting to each of the players in the room.

Finally, Dex sighed, clearly taking pity on him.

“Just cheer for the Aces, Tango,” he said. Tony had been dubbed ‘Tango’ only a few weeks before for his penchant of following in Whiskey’s wake.

Tango visibly relaxed and smiled at his captain.

“Okay!” he said and then his face dropped with a sudden thought. “Who is Bitty’s boyfriend though?”

Eric groaned.

“No one,” he said forcefully. “I am very, _very_ single.”

“Bitty, we are all, like, painfully aware,” Nursey chirped, smirking over his shoulder. Eric gave him a sour look, but luckily everyone seemed willing to drop it for the time being after Dex turned the volume up on the game a moment later as the national anthem wrapped up.

The first period of the Aces’ game was fast and chippy, but both teams went to intermission with no goals on the board. In the second period, the game started getting dirty. Eric was glad he was watching on TV and not on the ice. Ikers, an Aces D-man, took a particularly vicious check  and although he skated off the ice on his own, he was immediately taken to the locker room by a trainer and didn’t seem likely to return. Eric pulled up the Aces’ Twitter feed, refreshing it for any updates on his injuries as the game dragged into the third with just one goal from the Kings to show for it.

Chowder grimaced beside him every time there was a shot on goal by either team and sometimes even moved his arms as though muscle memory was kicking in. Eric resisted chirping him for it, but just barely. He wasn’t necessarily superstitious, but he also wasn’t dumb enough to tease his goalie the night before a big game. The first two periods had been full of good-natured chirps in the room, but by the time the third period was on, the room was grim as the Aces defense folded in on itself without Ikers and the Kings were allowed two more goals before the final buzzer sounded.

“Jesus, that was brutal,” Dex said as Eric turned the volume down low after the buzzer.

Eric sank back against the pillows in agreement.  

“Was there any update on Ikers?” Whiskey asked from the armchair in the corner. Eric took out his phone and then shook his head once he confirmed. The Aces’ Twitter had promised to update whenever they had information, but then had gone silent except for a single tweet confirming the final score as 3-0, a shutout for the Kings.

A dour silence fell on the boys in the room as Eric flipped the TV to ESPN highlights. When the first of them decided that it was time to turn in for the night, Eric sprang up, remembering that he had meant to tweet about them all watching the game together.

“Wait!” Eric said, forcing Whiskey back into his seat by grabbing onto his arm. “I wanted a picture.”

Whiskey sat slowly back down, looking a little grumpy at the prospect, but he held his tongue. Dex did not.

“If this is going on Twitter, I’ll pass,” Dex said from the opposite bed. He had already swung his legs over the side and seemed ready to bolt at any minute if given the chance. He wasn’t normally so averse to pictures, although he had never been a fan. Eric frowned at him a moment and then tossed him his phone instead of arguing the point.

“You can take it then,” he said and then ushered the other boys into a quick formation. “Now, smile, y’all. Pretend we took this before the game and not after.”

Dex obediently snapped a few pictures and Eric inspected them before allowing any of the team to escape his room, but as soon as he gave his approval, several of them left the room with mumbled thanks for the invitation.

“Straight to bed, boys,” Eric said as they filtered into the hallway. “You all have to be up bright and early for morning skate and you better be smiling when you get there.”

“Like you’re ever cheerful for morning skate, Bitty,” Nursey said, socking him on the shoulder as he passed him on his way out of the room. Chowder followed him out and bid Eric a goodnight with a quick hug.  Nursey and Chowder were still rooming together and it already felt like a new status quo.

Once they had left, Eric turned to find Dex still sitting on the edge of the spare bed, staring down at his joined hands. Eric watched him for a moment and then determining that Dex had no immediate intentions of leaving with the rest of the boys, he closed the door carefully behind him and walked over to sit on the other bed.  

“You going to finally tell me what’s got you in knots?” Eric asked as he pulled his legs up underneath himself.

Dex’s shoulders lifted in a half-hearted shrug and then he collapsed backwards on the bed with a gusty sigh, flinging his arms wide open in a snow angel motion.

“I thought it would be easier after I told him about...,” Dex trailed off and then waved in air above him from where he was laying down. “Me, you know.”

Eric was glad that Dex was laying down so he couldn’t see the way Eric’s eyebrows shot through the roof. This was possibly the most direct Dex had ever been about his sexuality.

“It’s not?” Eric asked after a long moment of waiting for Dex to continue.

Dex took a long moment, as though it were a particularly complex question to answer and then shaking his head, he said in a small voice, “No.”

“He seems…” Eric started and then trailed off. He wasn’t sure how Nursey seemed. _Chill_. A bubble of laughter died in his throat and Dex groaned as if he had said it aloud anyway.

“I know,” Dex grumbled, propping himself up with his elbows. “That’s half the problem. I told him and he just…”

Dex waved his hands angrily in the air, obviously at a loss for words, before collapsing back on the bed in defeat. Eric raised an eyebrow at him and sighed.

“Non-reactions can be hard,” Eric said, trying to sympathize.

“It wasn’t a non-reaction, though,” Dex said, sitting fully up with the force of his feeling. “It’s like fucking calculated as fuck, Bitty. You saw him tonight. He’s doing it on purpose.”

“Dex,” Eric said firmly.

Dex deflated so rapidly it was as though someone had stuck a pin in him.

“I know,” Dex said, not needing Eric to continue. “I fucking know, Bitty. He just...he makes me want to punch a wall sometimes. Or him. I think I mostly want to punch him.”

Eric snorted and reached across the divide to pat Dex gently on the knee.

“It’ll get better,” Eric said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “He just needs some time.”

“Yeah,” Dex said, shaking himself before standing up and shoving his hands deep in his pockets. The tips of his ears were red, with either embarrassment or lingering frustration or both. Eric looked away.

“He’s dating someone, you know,” Dex said softly, swaying a little as he stood next to Eric. “A girl.”

Eric felt his heart sink with a sudden understanding. He frowned down at his lap before schooling his expression into something more neutral.

“Oh, I didn’t know,” Eric said, standing up and brushing himself off before heading towards his door to see Dex out.

“Yeah, neither did I,” Dex said, sounding more miserable than ever as he followed Eric.

Eric bit his lip hard and fiddled with his phone in his hands before turning back to Dex, resolved.

“I know how that feels, you know,” Eric said carefully. “To...have feelings for someone who’s unavailable.”

“Do you?” Dex asked. His tone was pure acid and Eric bristled at it. He had expected some pushback from Dex for that, but _honestly_.

“Yes, I do,” Eric said frostily. “And you’ll do well not to use that tone with me again, Mr. Poindexter.”

Dex looked appropriately chastised as he rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at the carpet.

“Sorry, Bitty,” he said.

Eric felt himself soften and he sighed before opening the door.

“Get some sleep, Dex,” he said. “We can talk about this more some other time. I’ll make you some pie and tell you all about the straight boys who have broken my heart over the years.”

Dex snorted and allowed himself to be guided into the hallway.

“Thanks, Bitty,” he said more sincerely.

Eric leaned in the doorway and smiled at him wanly.

“No problem, Dex,” he said. “See you in the morning.”

 

\--

 

> **@omgcheckplease**
> 
> _Rough game, @realKentParson, but we were cheering for you! #LVAces_
> 
>   
> 
> 
> **@realKentParson just favorited your tweet!**

  


\--

  


“Is this seat taken?” Jack asked one afternoon late the next week as Eric caught up on paperwork at Annie’s. Eric looked up and smiled at him, glad for the break. He stretched his legs out to the side of the table and cracked his neck.

“I thought you were anti-coffee, Mr. Zimmermann,” Eric said as Jack sat down. Jack smiled and then shrugged.

“They make smoothies here too, you know,” he said. “If you’d bother to explore the menu beyond your sugar drinks.”

Eric huffed, but Jack knew it was just for show judging by the smirk on his face.

“Are you working on something important?” Jack asked, frowning down at the pile of paperwork Eric had in front of him.

“No,” Eric said automatically and then mentally kicking himself, he amended, “Well, yes, but it doesn’t need to be done today. It’s for a youth league fundraiser in January that the team has to host and we’re still sorting out the logistics because we have a game the next afternoon up in Connecticut and we don’t want to overload the boys.”

The barista interrupted whatever Jack was going to say before he could respond. Jack held up a finger before sliding out of his chair and towards the drink bar to retrieve an atrociously green smoothie. Eric wrinkled his nose in disgust at the smoothie as Jack nodded his thanks to the barista. Then, with a sigh down at his paperwork, he cleared the table, stacking it neatly before tucking it back into a folder. It could wait for later.

“You don’t have to stop if you’re busy,” Jack said when he came back over. He frowned at Eric’s bag as if he could will the paperwork back out just by looking at it. Eric waved at it in dismissal.

“It’s fine,” he said. “I needed a break. My head was swimming anyways.”

Jack sat back down with a shy smile and relaxed into his seat, taking a long sip from his smoothie.

“How you can drink something that looks like that is beyond me,” Eric said as he watched Jack. Jack laughed around a gulp of his smoothie and looked away for a moment while he swallowed.

“It tastes like berry mostly,” he said after he had finished swallowing.

“Mostly,” Eric echoed doubtfully.

Jack grinned lopsidedly at him and went on sipping his green smoothie.

“What are you doing next week for Thanksgiving break?” Eric asked after a moment of scrolling through his phone. “Are you going home?”

Jack gave him a curious look and then shrugged.

“Thanksgiving already happened, Bittle,” Jack said, matter-of-factly.

“No, it’s next week,” Eric insisted, forehead creasing. Had Jack lost his mind?

“Real Thanksgiving already happened then,” Jack amended, still looking deadly serious.

Eric looked at him in disbelief.

“Jack Zimmermann, I have no idea what you’re on about, but you’re making no sense,” Eric said.

“Canadians celebrate in October,” Jack said.

“No kidding?” Eric asked, already pulling out his phone to Google it.

“No kidding,” Jack confirmed.

“Lord, next you’re gonna tell me that you don’t celebrate Christmas with the rest of us either.”

Jack smiled a little strangely at him, tilting his head to the side.

“I don’t celebrate Christmas at all, actually,” Jack said.

“Now you’re just chirping me,” Eric complained as he tossed his phone aside and gave Jack his full attention.  

“I’m not,” Jack said, and then a little more carefully. “My family’s always been more into Hannukah.”

Eric threw a hand over his mouth, his eyes going wide with surprise.

“Oh my God, Jack!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t know, I’m sorry!”

“It’s fine, Bittle,” Jack said, after letting him squirm for a moment. Jack smiled more genuinely now, leaning back in his chair. He turned his smoothie cup around in his hand a few times as Eric processed the information more fully.

“Hanukkah,” Eric said, mostly to himself. “What do you make for Hanukkah? When _is_ Hanukkah?”

“Euh, mid-December this year, I think,” Jack said with another shrug.

“Are you going home for it?” Eric asked.

“Maybe for a day or two, but it’s mostly during term still,” he said, sounding unconcerned. “My parents aren’t big on celebrating it either way. We never had much in the way of holiday time except in the off-season when I was growing up and now that my dad’s retired and I live down here, they mostly just travel to warmer places in the winter. They have a house out in California now and they go once the snow gets bad at home.”

“Oh,” Eric said, sinking down in his seat a little. “So you can’t even really go home for the holidays anymore, huh?”

Jack looked entirely unconcerned.

“I could if I wanted a huge house to myself, I guess,” Jack said.

“I can’t even imagine,” Eric said, frowning to himself as he thought of holidays back home in Georgia with his entire extended family in attendance. Then, shaking himself a bit, Eric regrouped. “So what are you doing for _American_ Thanksgiving then?”

“Ignoring it?” Jack said.

Eric scowled at him and then reached into his bag to tear a sheet of blank paper from his notebook and a pen. He scrawled his address and a time and date on it before pushing it across to Jack.

“You should come to our place,” he said. “There will be plenty to go around.”

“Plenty of pie, you mean?” Jack asked, but took the offered address all the same.

“You better prepare yourself, Mr. Zimmermann,” he warned. “Thanksgiving is the one day of the year where you absolutely cannot refuse a piece of pie.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jack said and pocketed the address.

 

\--

  


> **Episode 6.14 - Say Goodbye to Canned and Hello to Homemade Cranberry Sauce**
> 
>  
> 
> [ _...y’all, I cannot believe how quickly this semester is flying by! Thanksgiving is right around the corner and I’m already buying tickets to fly home for Christmas! I haven’t been able to spend actual Christmas in Madison in two years because of our game schedule in the past, but a small perk of being staff and not a player is that sometimes you can miss a game or two to go home for a well-deserved break. I’m excited, but in the meantime, I’m celebrating Thanksgiving right here in Boston with friends. This’ll be the first year of celebrating it somewhere that’s not the Haus, which is honestly so weird, but we’re planning on getting us alumni together with the frogs and some of the other boys for a pick-up game after an early dinner, so we’ll be together for some of the day at least…_ ]

  
  


\--

 

“Hey, Bits!” Shitty yelled from the living room just as Eric leaned over the stove to adjust the burner level to simmer for the gravy. “Give me Zimmermann’s digits so I can tell him to bring all his gear for shinny.”

“Oh, I can text him,” Eric said absently and then wiping his forehead, looked around for his phone. He patted his pockets, but came up empty and didn’t see it on the counter. He frowned at the empty counter where he was sure he had sat the phone down a few minutes before. “Have you seen my phone?”

Shitty waved the phone at him from across the breakfast bar. Eric reached for it and Shitty moved back out of his reach.

“Just give me your passcode and I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry your pretty little head about anything other than that beaut of a turkey,” Shitty said. His fingers poised over Eric’s phone and he tried a few combinations without success.

“I’m not giving you my passcode,” Eric said, making another attempt to swipe the phone away from Shitty and failing.

“Here, give it to me,” Lardo said from the dining room table where she was assembling a turkey from napkins and plasticware. Shitty deposited it into her outstretched hand and she swiftly unlocked it for him before sliding it back to him.

“How do you know my passcode?” Eric asked in indignation.

Lardo snorted.

“Like you’re that sneaky,” she said and went back to folding napkins.

Shitty retreated with his prize back to the living room where Ransom and Holster were already loudly arguing over Mario Kart standings and Eric sighed in defeat.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered to himself as he went back to the kitchen. He had kicked them all out after Holster had tried to sneak a bite of pie five minutes after they’d arrived two hours ago, but Lardo and him had done most of the prep the day before and he’d gotten up early to finish the pies so now it was just a coordination of timers and the occasional stirring or basting to keep him occupied. Around ten minutes later, Lardo delivered his phone back to him in the kitchen and then pushed him towards his bedroom.

“Take a nap,” she said as she pushed him with minimal protest into his still mussed bed. “I got this handled for an hour or two.”

“Come get me if you need anything,” Eric said, already yawning as he tucked his feet under the covers.

“Stir the thing, juice the thing, don’t let the other thing burn,” Lardo said as she turned off the lights. “I got this, Bitty, no worries.”

Eric set an alarm for an hour on his phone before drifting almost immediately into a fitful nap. He had gotten up earlier than God that morning to get all the pies baked and cooling and still have time to have the turkey done by mid-afternoon and he was exhausted even though it was barely noon.

When his alarm went off sometime later, he hit snooze a few times before finally crawling out of bed. He smoothed down his rumpled shirt and padded down the hallway to check on his turkey and make sure Lardo had properly babysat it. He was leaning over the still simmering gravy when he heard her come in and without looking up from his inspection, he held out a hand.

“Could you give me a spoon, sweetheart?” he asked.

“Euh,” a deep voice that definitely didn’t belong to Lardo said. “Where do you keep them?”

Startled, Eric turned to see Jack standing awkwardly in the doorway behind him.

“Oh, Jack!” Eric said. “I’m sorry, I thought you were Lardo.”

“Ah,” Jack said. “S’Okay.”

“Hi,” Eric said, feeling suddenly awkward.

“Hi,” Jack said.

They stared at each other for a moment before a loud crash from the living room spurred Eric back into motion. He quickly spun around to reach for the utensils drawer and grabbed his own spoon, smoothing his hair down a little in the same movement. He was painfully aware of how rumpled he must look after his long nap. He could only hope that there wasn’t also a crease on his face or something. He had fully intended on changing before Jack arrived that afternoon, but had obviously slept longer than intended. He waved the spoon in the air with a small smile and turned to stir the gravy a bit, angling his body away from the stove so he could talk to Jack.

“Did you just get here?” Eric asked, trying for a casual tone.

Jack had stuffed his hands in his pockets and was still lurking near the breakfast bar.

“A little while ago,” Jack said. “I hope that’s okay. Shitty asked me to come early if I could?”

Eric finally glanced at the clock and saw that it wasn’t even two o’clock yet.

“Of course it’s okay! Lord, I thought for sure I must have set my alarm wrong or something when I saw you standing there, Jack,” Eric said after a beat of relief. He smoothed his hair down again, taking a moment to collect his racing thoughts. “I hope Shitty didn’t disrupt any of your plans for the day by asking you to come over early.”

“No, he didn’t,” Jack said and finally drifted a little further into the kitchen to lean against the counter. “Nothing else planned.”

“So you can come out and play shinny with us later?” Eric asked. He dipped the spoon into the gravy after giving it a good stir with his spatula and offered the spoon to Jack with a hand underneath the spoon to catch any stray drops from falling to the floor. “What do you think of this?”

Jack took the small bite offered to him obediently and Eric watched his expression carefully.

“It’s good,” Jack said after swallowing a moment later.

Eric took a quick taste of the gravy himself and frowned in thought.

“I think it needs more salt,” he said after a moment and reached for the shaker to add a few dashes of salt. He turned back to Jack who was watching him quietly from the other side of the small kitchen.

“So, shinny?” Eric asked again as put the used spoon in the waiting dishwasher, realizing that Jack had never answered him the first time. “Most of the boys from the team will be there this afternoon. They’re all having a celebration at the Haus and then joining us for a game. I wanted us all to be together, but...well, we’re all going to meet up later instead.”

“Are you sure you want me there?” Jack asked. “It sounds like it’s just a Samwell thing and I don’t want to intrude.”

Eric bumped his shoulder playfully against Jack’s on his way to the fridge and pulled a tray of h'orderves from the fridge, pulling the plastic wrap off of them and throwing it away. He re-arranged a few of them on the tray as he spoke.

“You won’t be intruding on anything, silly,” he said. “It’s just a bit of fun.”

“Good,” Jack said, looking a little relieved when Eric looked up from the tray. His mouth quirked a bit and Eric smiled back.

“Were you hoping I’d say you weren’t welcome because you’re secretly worried you can’t keep up with all those college boys?” Eric teased in a mock whisper. Jack laughed, a short, surprised laugh and Eric’s cheeks hurt from biting down on his own smile. He picked up the tray he’d finished preparing and nodded towards the living room where the rest of the others were.

“I think I can keep up,” Jack said quietly so just Eric could hear before they joined the others. Eric smiled at him one last time before brandishing the tray dramatically before him into the living room and setting it down on the coffee table. Holster immediately dived for it, barely edging out Shitty.

“Bits, how did you know?” Ransom declared, throwing his game controller to the side and joining in the mad scramble for appetizers.

“I have a carefully honed schedule for the day and it’s time for snacks,” Eric declared.

Ransom mumbled his thanks around a mouthful of food and the others followed suit. Eric sank onto the floor in front of Lardo, leaving the empty armchair to Jack. Eric found himself with a controller and a beer in short order and settled against the couch comfortably, surrounded by too-loud laughter and chirps from his friends.

His phone went off with a turkey alarm an hour later and he scrambled up from the couch.

“Do you need any help?” Jack asked before he got too far away, already half out of seat to follow Eric into the kitchen.

“Jack Zimmermann, you are a guest,” Eric said, pushing him back down into his seat firmly by the shoulder. Jack obediently sat back down but didn’t let the matter go entirely.

“I don’t mind,” he said sincerely.

“Don’t worry yourself,” Eric said, patting his shoulder before letting go. “My mama taught me better than to make guests work for their dinner.”

“Yo, Bits!” Shitty called after him, barely looking up from a Mario Kart duel. “Can you be the fucking peach we know you are and grab more beer?”

“It’ll be a few minutes,” Bitty yelled over his shoulder.

Eric hummed to himself as he moved around the kitchen. He took the turkey out of the oven after determining it was ready and covered it in foil. Then he worked on rotating the stuffing and a casserole into the oven and prepared a sheet of rolls to go in after those were done warming. He set another timer on his phone and wiped his hands on a dishtowel before grabbing another six-pack from the over-crowded fridge. He grabbed a warm one from the counter where Holster had put several on deck and shoved it into the empty space in the fridge before returning to the others.

“About thirty minutes until dinner,” he announced as he doled out beer to a chorus of cheers.

“Thank fuck,” Shitty said dramatically, patting his stomach mournfully.

“Turkey’s ready for your ministrations whenever you are,” Eric said to Lardo as he sat down.

“Oh!” she said, immediately hopping up.

“Wait, why does Lardo get to carve the turkey?” Holster boomed, leaning forward. “I feel like we should put this to a vote.”

“Bro,” Ransom said. “I vote for Lardo.”

“Me three,” Shitty said as Eric nodded along with Ransom.

Holster, betrayed, turned to Jack.

“Jack, friend, back me up here,” Holster pleaded.

“Uh...” Jack hesitated, his eyes darting to Eric and back to Holster. “Lardo?”

Lardo cackled and then punched Holster’s shoulder from behind.

“Better luck next time, bro,” she said as she headed to the kitchen.

“No fair!” Holster said, jumping up to follow her. “You had more time to win the new guy’s loyalty.”

“You were totes outvoted anyway, Holtzy,” Ransom said, following them into the kitchen in a storm of debate.

“Sorry, they’re a bit much the first time around, but they really do grow on you,” Eric whispered as soon as they were out of earshot.

Jack shrugged.

“It’s fine,” he said. “I like them, really.”

“Well,” Eric said, feeling suddenly flustered. “Good.”

“Brah, I’m so glad you’re here,” Shitty said, moving closer to them on the couch. “And I’m fucking stoked that you’re gonna play with us. It’ll be ‘swawesome.”

“Which reminds me,” Eric said, pulling himself up onto the couch from his spot on the floor and tucking his feet underneath himself. “You should be prepared.”

“Prepared?” Jack said, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead.

Shitty chuckled to himself and grinned.

“Right you are, Bits,” Shitty said. “He’s gonna be the prettiest girl at prom.”

“What?” Jack asked. His face was the picture of doubt as he looked between them. Eric had to swallow his own laughter. He reached out and patted Jack on the arm in reassurance and leaned in to speak a little conspiratorially.

“The boys are going to want to recruit you to their team,” Eric explained. “But you have to play with us.”

“Oh, I do?” Jack said. One corner of his mouth lifted in a sly smile as he caught on. Jack’s eyes danced with amusement when Eric tried to pull a serious face at him. He mirrored it to such great effect that Eric nearly sputtered in laughter before collecting himself again.

“Why do you think I invited you to play?” Eric asked as seriously as he could. “Rans and Holster have our defense filled, but we have to plug some serious holes in our offense if we want to show those kids who’s boss.”

Jack hummed in understanding, nodding as he leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms as though thinking it over. He snapped his fingers as though a thought had just occurred to him.

“And what happens if they make me an offer I can’t refuse?” Jack asked.

Eric harumphed at the same time that Shitty crowed in laughter.

“What are those boys going to offer you?” Eric demanded. “Rapt attention at their next nutrition seminar with you?”

“Might be a nice change,” Jack said with a small shrug.

Eric’s phone timer went off just as he was about to argue and he poked Shitty into service.

“It’s your job to seal this deal, Shitty,” Eric announced before trotting off to the kitchen to pull his pans from the oven and slide in the rolls. “Dinner in 12 minutes!”

Ransom and Holster were crowded into the kitchen and Eric shooed them out. He directed them towards the dining room table where they could still holler into the kitchen as Lardo put the finishing touches on her creative plating of the turkey and filled the gravy boat that Eric had brought in earlier. Eric busied himself with ferrying things out to the table until nothing else would fit and then he arranged it onto the limited counter space in the kitchen. Lardo went behind him and planted spoons in everything, swatting away hands that tried to grab food before Eric was done in the kitchen.

“Alright, everyone,” Eric finally announced as he pulled the rolls from the oven a few minutes later. “Time to serve yourselves.”

There was a general commotion in the apartment as everyone surged towards the kitchen at once. Lardo commandeered them into a line and handed Eric his plate, insisting that he go first. Eric took it gratefully and started down the line, piling food onto his plate, suddenly hyper-aware of how ravenous he was. His stomach even growled as he spooned out some of the green bean casserole.

“There’s a lot less pie than I was expecting,” Jack said as he took a seat next to Eric at the table.

Eric felt his face heat.

“Oh, I actually hid them in my bedroom this morning,” he confessed. “I was worried those goons in the kitchen would eat them before we ever sat down for dinner. I made four of them, so there’ll be plenty for later.”

Jack laughed, his shoulders shaking with it so much that Eric felt it. Eric laughed too, trying to calm the sudden flutter in his stomach as he smiled sideways at Jack. He thought with a strange flicker of satisfaction that this was the happiest he’d ever really seen Jack. It suited him.

“What all did you make?” Jack asked as the others started to filter in.

“Apple, Pecan, and two Pumpkins,” Eric said, ticking them off on his fingers. “And I expect you to have a piece of each, Mr. Zimmermann.”

“Jesus, Bitty,” Shitty said as he took the last seat at the table. “Save some for the rest of us.”

Eric laughed and clapped his hands together with satisfaction as he looked around to see the smiling faces of his friends seated all around him. Holster was already tucking into his mashed potatoes, but Lardo swiped the fork from his hand.

“Bro,” she said. “We gotta do our ‘thankful’ spiels first.”

Shitty cleared his throat dramatically and tapped his fork on his beer bottle even though he already had everyone’s attention. He raised the bottle in the air and put his other hand over his heart.

“Well, I think I can speak for all of us when I say I’m thankful as fuck for Bitty’s culinary prowess and Lardo’s excellent art skills in making this the best fucking Friendsgiving ever,” Shitty said, raising his glass high. Eric exchanged a satisfied smirk with Lardo before clinking their glasses together.

Everyone looked to Eric next and he cleared his throat. He held up his glass and and met Jack’s eyes with a small smile. All thought of what Eric had originally planned to say flew out of his mind and he licked his lips, a little nervous suddenly.

“This year,” Eric said. “I’m thankful for new friends.”

He wasn’t sure if he was imagining the slight blush on Jack’s cheeks or not, but he felt a similar flush on his own and hoped it could be written off as too much wine if any of the others noticed it at all.

“Fucking cheers to that,” Shitty agreed enthusiastically, clinking his glass against Eric’s before everyone else chimed in with their own cheers and tucked into their food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Up Next:** End-of-Semester and Holiday plans, some cookies and probably more hockey. People play hockey in this story, I think. Oh, and Parse comes for a visit again, too!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW just in case for a couple of different things: Passing instance of veiled homophobia and then later in the chapter, a situation is presented in a way that _might_ read as dubcon, but I promise it is just because the particular storyteller is being blunt and purposefully shocking. There was some very enthusiastic consent going on in that car. Okay. Good! Read on!

> **TO: Jack Zimmermann**
> 
> **FROM: Eric Bittle**
> 
> _Hey, are you going to be in town the 2nd wkd of Dec?_

 

Eric’s fingers had lingered over a text to Jack for three days before he’d finally gotten up enough gumption to hit send. Ellipses had appeared a moment later and then disappeared with no response for the rest of the afternoon. Eric had tried to stop checking his phone for a response after the first hour, but as afternoon ticked away, so did his mood and resolve. He had checked his phone so often during his afternoon coaches’ meeting that at one point, Murray had asked him if he was waiting on something. Eric had apologized profusely and done his best to focus for the next hour by putting his phone in his pocket instead of on the desk.

He hadn’t been that embarrassed in front of the coaches in a long time and was quietly kicking himself for it. Especially since Jack still hadn’t texted him back, which was just another thing to be sorry about really. Maybe he shouldn’t have texted at all. They had only texted in passing before, for directions to Thanksgiving and then other logistics. Eric had always just talked to him in person for everything else. Eric was so lost in his own pity party that the sight of Jack himself waiting outside his office at Faber almost made him drop the armful of paperwork he had. Jack nodded at him in greeting as soon as he noticed Eric rounding the corner.

“Jack,” Eric said dumbly, not quite believing that Jack was there.

“Hey, Bittle,” Jack said, standing up a little straighter from where he had been slumping against the wall. He frowned at the huge stack of papers that Eric was currently shuffling around in his arms in order to reach for his office keys. “Is this a bad time?”

“Oh!” Eric said. “No, not all all. I’m done for the day actually. Just finished.”

Jack visibly relaxed.

“Good,” he said and followed Eric inside his office where he loomed awkwardly in the doorway as Eric threw his papers down, catching two pieces that tried to fly away. Eric looked up at him expectantly for whatever it was he had come to say, but Jack seemed content to just linger. Eric busied himself putting a few things away before he finally made a venture at conversation.

“Kent Parson asked if I wanted to go the Aces’ game against the Falconers next month,” Eric said. He leaned against his desk and watched Jack carefully as he said it to gauge his reaction.

Jack blinked at him, obviously taken aback.

“Oh,” he said. “Are you...do you talk to Kent a lot?”

“No,” Eric answered. “Not really. Sometimes we DM on Twitter, I guess.”

Jack’s forehead creased and he turned away from Eric, but not quickly enough to hide his frown. Eric chewed on his lip nervously.

“I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come?” Eric asked. “With me, I mean? That’s why I was wondering if you’d be here.”

When Jack didn’t answer right away, Eric stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. Jack was looking back at him as though Eric had momentarily lapsed into a foreign language. Eric hurried to explain himself.

“It’s just that he’s obviously more your friend than mine,” Eric said, eager to fill the awkward silence. “And I mean, I don’t think he even really wants to be my friend. He just wants to make sure someone is _your_ friend. Not that I’m just your friend because he wants me to be. God, sorry, none of that made sense, huh? What I mean is that I think he just wants to know you’re doing well here. And that you have friends. And you do, of course.”

Jack was smiling at Eric when Eric looked up from his waving hands, which flustered him even further.

“I’m glad you’re my friend with or without Parse’s bribes,” Jack said drily, but the hint of a smile on his face took the edge off of it.

Eric sighed and forcibly relaxed his shoulders before taking a big breath.

“Yeah?” Eric said.

“Yeah,” Jack agreed, his face smoothing into a full smile.

“So does that mean you’ll come?” Eric asked.

Jack studied Eric for a moment as if the answer was somehow embedded in Eric’s hopeful expression.

“Are you sure you don’t want to invite one of your teammates?” Jack asked.

“I think my instructions were clear enough,” Eric said, crossing his arms. “He didn’t say so, but I know Kent wanted me to ask you to come. He just wanted me to do his dirty work.”

Jack laughed.

“Alright,” he finally agreed. “Fine.”

Eric felt a rush of accomplishment, pleased with himself.

“Good,” he announced and uncrossed his arms. “That’s settled then. Now, if you don’t mind, I was on my way to Annie’s before I catch the train home.”

“Are you ever not on your way to Annie’s?” Jack asked, a teasing lilt in his voice as he made to follow Eric out of the office again.

“Of course,” Eric said. “Sometimes I’m on my way back.”

  


\--

  


Lardo leaned in the doorjamb just as Eric ran a careful comb through his hair to guide the mousse into place. She watched him arrange his hair in silence, but her smirk spoke loudly enough anyways.

“It’s not a date,” he said. It was a now familiar refrain after nearly two weeks of non-stop innuendo since Eric had first let slip that he and Jack would be going to a game alone together.

“Then why do you look so fancy?” Lardo asked, flicking an accusatory finger towards Eric’s neatly combed hair and outfit.

“Can’t a boy put mousse in his hair around here without an interrogation?” Eric said as he tucked a few last stray hairs into place, smoothing them down before stepping back from the mirror and inspecting himself. He didn’t have any Aces gear, of course, but he’d found an old black shirsey from a charity game that SMH had done two years before and it would be good enough for one game. It was snug around his arms and shoulders where he had grown a little broader and he frowned at the way it pulled. “Do you think I should wear something else?”

Lardo quirked an eyebrow and made an exaggerated pass with her eyes over Eric’s frame.

“No, you look hot,” she said. Her smirk deepened and Eric turned back to the mirror, tugging at the sleeves a little more. He frowned at his own image.

“Lardo,” he whined.

Her arms unfolded and she reached over to him to force his shoulders straight out of his slump. Although she was several inches shorter, she still managed to look over his shoulder to make eye contact in the mirror.

“It’s not a date,” she said firmly. “And you’d look hot no matter what you wore.”

Eric sucked in a long breath and patted her hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks,” he said and with one last look in the mirror, he exhaled and led the way out of the small bathroom. Lardo followed him into the kitchen where Eric immediately started to finish packing up the two pies he had made to give Kent after the game.

“So, hypothetically,” Lardo said from the bar where she had perched on one of the stools. “If it was a date…”

“It’s not,” Eric said.

“ _Hypothetically_ ,” Lardo repeated. “If it was.”

Eric sighed, pausing his busy hands and stared down at the neatly pressed crust of the blueberry pie he had spent the early afternoon baking. The crust was a little too golden and had started to flake, but he didn’t think Kent would mind or even notice much. He ran a finger along the edge of the pan and pursed his lips in thought.

“I don’t…” Eric started, but couldn’t finish. His throat felt tight and lumpy so he turned away from the pie and grabbed a glass from one of the cupboards for something else to occupy his hands. Lardo waited patiently as he wrestled a few ice cubes from the freezer and ran the tap for a glass of water. When he finished, she was looking at him expectantly, waiting for an answer.

He walked over to the other side of bar and leaned his elbows on the counter across from her. He struggled for the right words.

“I just get the feeling that he wants to be friends,” Eric said slowly, kneading his hands together.

“Bits,” Lardo sighed and leaned forward herself to cover his hands in her own. “You know you’re like a super amazing catch and any guy would fall all over themselves to have you, right?”

Eric rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know that I would go that far,” he said.

“Bitty,” Lardo said. “Be real. There were boys hanging around all the time trying to get like five minutes of your attention in college. That rugby dude you went to Screw with mooned over you for ages and then the swimmer...Tad?”

“Tad?” Eric asked, tilting his head to the side in consideration. Tad had been a frequent kegster attendee who was always friendly and chatty with Eric, but Eric hadn’t even thought...

“ _Dude_ ,” Lardo said, nodding. “He was totes in love with you. Thought you hung the fucking moon.”

“He never said anything.” Eric frowned.

Lardo shrugged.

“Probably because you never seemed all that interested in him,” she said.

“I could have been interested,” Eric grumbled and pulled his hands back from hers. “You should’ve told me.”

Lardo shrugged again, looking unconcerned.

“He was boring as fuck. You would have hated him,” she said.

Eric, thinking on his few interactions with the swimmer privately agreed, but didn’t allow his grumpy pout to slip as he turned back to the carefully folded pie boxes he had just finished. He opened the freezer to grab several ice packs from the back of the shelf and stacked them neatly on the counter to pack around the pies in his freezer bag. He busied himself with their arrangement.

“Jack Zimmermann isn’t boring,” Lardo said after a few minutes of letting him work. Eric’s hand froze mid-motion before he caught himself and kept going, trying to brush it off.

“You clearly haven’t sat through one of his nutrition lectures,” Eric said once he had recovered a second later.

“Weren’t you just saying the other night how much better they’d gotten?” Lardo laughed, then affecting a terrible imitation of Eric’s accent, she said, “Lordy, y’all’d’ve never thought he was the same person, he was so good.”

Eric turned around to her, hands on his hips.

“That is not how I talk,” he said sternly.

Lardo laughed, but her response was cut off by a sharp rap at the front door. Eric felt his stomach drop at the sound and he glanced frantically at the glowing clock on the microwave. Jack was early.

He ran a hand along the side of his head to make sure his hair was still in place, which drew another eyebrow from Lardo. He scowled at her in return, which caused her to throw her hands up in mock surrender.

“It’s not a date,” she repeated obediently.

“It’s not a date,” he echoed, trying to quiet his thundering heart. Jack knocked again on the door and Eric startled into motion.

“Hey Bits,” Lardo called behind him. “Do you think you can wait until Christmas to like jump his bones or whatever?”

“What?” Eric asked, confused, turning back to her.

“I’m gonna owe Shitty like a hundred bucks otherwise.”

“Oh my god, Larissa Duan,” he said. “It’s not a date and it’s not gonna be.”

With that, he took the last few steps to the door and swung it open for Jack. Eric had to swallow down several different reactions when he saw Jack, because Jack looked...good. He was wearing a faded black t-shirt with the Aces logo on it and jeans, which objectively was something he could have worn on any day since Eric had known him without turning any heads, but something about the careful press of his dark jeans and his gelled hair that night was especially _nice_. Eric licked his lips as he took the sight in, momentarily speechless until he finally remembered he was blocking the doorway.

“Hi,” Eric croaked at long last. “I mean, hello. Hi, Jack.”

“Hey, Bittle,” Jack said, smiling a little shyly.

Eric stepped aside abruptly and ushered Jack in towards the kitchen where he had left the pies. He gathered up the freezer bag and then patted his pockets to make sure he had his wallet and keys. His blood was thrumming so loudly that he felt a little giddy. He carefully hoisted the freezer bag into his arms and then turned to where he’d left Jack right outside the kitchen.

“Ready?” he asked, interrupting a hushed conversation between Jack and Lardo. Jack looked up immediately with a smile at Eric and nodded.

“Ready,” he confirmed. “Nice to see you, Larissa.”

“Likewise, dude,” Lardo said, still perched at the bar. As soon as Jack had turned his back, Lardo caught Eric’s eye and gave him a look that confirmed it was _not_ just him that felt entirely overwhelmed by how good Jack looked in those jeans. A small consolation.

“Have a good night,” Lardo said as he hurried after Jack. She only sounded a little bit smug, which was better than expected.

“Bye!” Eric called as he caught up with Jack and whisked him out the door. He had to shift the freezer bag in his arms to be able to lock the door properly and it still took some juggling, but he waved away Jack’s hands when he offered to take the keys and do it.

“It’s not a big deal,” Eric said and jiggled the bolt in the lock until it clicked into place. He stuffed his keys back in his pocket and lifted the freezer bag back up safely into his arms.

Jack gave the bag a sidelong look.

“You know you can’t bring that into the arena right?” he asked.

“Do you take me for the village idiot or something?” Eric asked. “I planned ahead.”

He unzipped the freezer bag just enough to show Jack the ice pack carefully layered inside the bag to keep the pie boxes cool. Jack made a quiet noise of appreciation as Eric re-zipped the bag. Eric hugged the bag a little closer to his chest as they walked together out of the apartment to where Jack had parked around the corner.

Eric chattered the entire hour-long ride to the arena, but Jack didn’t seem to mind much, interjecting where he could to ask questions and laugh. By the time they reached Providence, Eric had all but run out of topics and had turned instead to his holiday plans.

“I’m pretty sure my mother has already sold me into servitude for my entire week at home,” Eric was saying as they started to near the arena. “She was talking about bringing 10 pies to the Sunday service and I only fly in on Friday, so that’ll be all Saturday just baking. Not that I mind - it’ll be nice to be back in that kitchen after suffering in my apartment and the Haus for so long. I like Boston, but why don’t any of the rentals have proper kitchens? It’s all kitchenette this and efficiency kitchen that and I just want a properly sized oven!”

Jack had listened mostly in silence beyond the occasional question, but this elicited a reaction from him.

“I have a nice kitchen,” he said and then with a glance over to Eric in the passenger seat, he added, “Nice oven, too.”

“Don’t tease,” Eric said. He crossed in his arms on his chest.

“I wasn’t,” Jack insisted, eyes back on the road so he could properly navigate around the orange cones and traffic attendants waving him to the right lane for the arena. He swore under his breath before following the impatient wave of the attendant and suddenly the arena was in front of them.

“I see a sign for lot D up ahead,” Eric said, pointing to it. Jack nodded and eased the truck forward behind a long line of cars.

“I wasn’t teasing,” he said again after a minute. “I mean, you can come use it if you want.”

“Jack Zimmermann,” Eric gasped teasingly. “Are saying I could bake a _pie_ in your fancy oven?”

Jack chuckled softly as he pulled into the garage and rolled down his window to hand their parking pass over. Once he had rolled the window back up, he glanced over to Eric and then back to the parking lot in front of them.

“I didn’t say it was fancy,” he said.

“Oh my god, it’s super fancy, isn’t it?” Eric groaned as Jack continued to wrap around the lot looking for a spot big enough for his truck. “I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me.”

“You never mentioned it before,” Jack said with a short laugh.  

He finally found a suitable spot and began to maneuver the truck in. Eric waited until he was done before popping the lock on his door and jumping out of the cab onto the pavement. Jack joined him a moment later.

Eric pulled the tickets from his wallet and handed one to Jack, who immediately pocketed it and stuffed his hands into his pockets after. Eric shivered a bit, suddenly realizing how cold it was. The temperature had dropped as the sun had set and even his flannel-lined winter coat felt thin. He squinted up at the quickly darkening sky and wondered if it was supposed to rain.

“Too cold for you, Bittle?” Jack asked, seeming to read his mind.

Eric huffed.

“I spend half my life on the ice, Mr. Zimmermann,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”

Jack smiled as though that were funny, but let it go. They set off towards the brightly lit arena together and a crowd slowly started to stream around them as they got closer. Eric’s shoulder bumped against Jack’s as he stepped a little closer and then Jack fell half a step behind him, a solid presence at his back.

Their seats were up on club level, directly opposite the players’ bench. Eric was thankful Kent had acquired them. It would have easily been half his rent for the two tickets alone, if not more, but they were great tickets. He had never seen a pro game from any of the club seats and it was a great view.

The teams were still on the ice for pregame warm-ups when Eric and Jack slid into their seats. Eric couldn’t stop looking around them, drinking in the scene. It had been a long time since he had been a pure spectator at a game and even longer since he’d been at a pro game.

“This is great,” he said aloud to Jack, clutching the program in hands. He turned to Jack to say something more before abruptly stopping when he saw the tight, anxious expression on Jack’s face. His stomach dropped. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jack said, gruff. “It’s just been a while.”

“Oh,” Eric said. He looked away, unsure what to say to that. Jack didn’t provide any hints except the constant motion of his leg shaking up and down.

The teams had just begun to filter off the ice when they were approached.

“Sorry to interrupt,” a deep voice from behind them rumbled. A portly man of about sixty ambled down the last step to stand in the aisle by their seats. “I thought that was you, Jack Zimmermann. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you around, son.”

Jack stood from his chair abruptly and extended his hand to shake the old man’s. His face was suddenly blank of emotion except for a vaguely pleasant smile. Eric felt a little unsettled at the sudden shift.

“Mr. Wilson,” he said as he allowed the man to pump his hand a little too enthusiastically. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a Providence fan.”

Mr. Wilson guffawed, throwing his head back as if delighted by the comment. He wagged a finger at Jack.

“You know better than that, son,” he said, still chuckling. “I’m in town for other business and couldn’t say no to tickets even if it is only expansion teams.”

He gave Jack a speculative look before finally releasing his hand.

“You’re here to see your old buddy Parson, I expect?” Mr. Wilson asked. “Shame the season they’re having, isn’t it?”

Jack shrugged.

“Bad seasons happen,” Jack said noncommittally.

“Indeed,” Mr. Wilson said.

Jack cleared his throat and looked over to where Eric was still sitting and nodding at him to stand up. Eric came to stand by his side in the cramped space.

“Mr. Wilson, this is my friend Eric Bittle. He’s on the coaching staff at Samwell College where I’m working.”

“But not coaching yourself, correct?” Mr. Wilson asked Jack directly.

“Euh, no,” Jack said, looking unsure for a moment before his expression slid back into neutrality. “Not coaching.”

Mr. Wilson looked over as Eric stood and his eyes narrowed in something that might have been recognition.

“What was your name again, son?” he asked with the smallest of frowns.

“Eric Bittle,” Eric supplied.

Mr. Wilson’s frown deepened and he gave Eric a critical once-over.

Eric felt as though an ice cube had slid down his spine. He knew that look. He pasted his brightest smile on his face and held out his hand steadily to shake Mr. Wilson’s. Mr. Wilson hesitated almost imperceptibly before gripping his hand firmly and giving it a single, curt shake.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Eric said. as evenly as possible.

“Yes,” Mr. Wilson agreed before turning his gaze back to Jack with a new unpleasantness. “Well, good to see here, kid. Tell your dad I said hello.”

“Will do,” Jack said.

Eric sank back into his seat as soon as Mr. Wilson had cleared the aisle to go back where he’d come from. Jack remained standing for several beats, watching him go, until he finally sat back down as well. His face was stormy.

“Sorry for that,” Jack said so quietly Eric almost didn’t hear it over the blaring music.

“It’s not --” Eric started and then shook his head. “There’s nothing to apologize for, Jack.”

Jack shook his head and clasped his hands together so tightly that Eric could see the whites of his knuckles. Glancing around to make sure no one was paying any heed to them anymore, Eric quickly reached over and gave Jack’s wrist the barest of squeezes before letting go.

“I mean it,” Eric said, leaning a little closer so no one could possibly overhear them. “Nothing for _you_ to apologize for.”

Jack looked over to him with a hard-to-read expression. Eric could almost see as Jack shoved whatever emotions he was having back down as his expression cleared into the eerily neutral expression from a few moments before. Eric smiled ruefully back at him and sank into his seat, putting space between them again.

  


\--

 

The Aces seemed doomed for their third loss in a row on the road as they slid into the third period with a two goal deficit, but luck and a well-placed skate knocked the puck in behind the Falconers’ goalie less than two minutes into the period and suddenly the game felt a little more possible. The Falconers were obviously caught off-guard by whatever had happened to fire up the Aces and their goalie Snowden let in another puck only a few minutes later, tieing the game. The mood in the arena for the home crowd had become tense, but there were several Aces fans screaming support at their team. Eric watched, peering down at the ice avidly while Jack occasionally offered commentary beside him.

The Aces didn’t net another goal in regulation, but managed to end the game quickly enough in overtime. The home crowd was less than charitable, but there was quite a rivalry built up between the two expansion teams since they had been introduced to the league in the same year, so it was forgivable.

Eric and Jack lingered in their seats as the crowd emptied out of the arena. They were in no hurry since they had some time to get to the hotel bar Kent had texted them earlier that day anyway.

“They needed that win,” Eric said to Jack as he watched people mill around them.

Jack made a noise of agreement, but he seemed distracted as he watched the crowd around them. Eric scanned the faces, noticing a few curious looks thrown their way, but no one else came by to talk. There was a woman squinting at them from several rows away as if trying to figure something out, but when she caught Eric looking back, she turned quickly away.

“Would it be better to leave?” Eric asked without elaborating.

“Maybe,” Jack hedged.

“Okay,” Eric said and stood, stretching out his arms after so long in the chair. “Let’s go. We can always get there early.”

They were almost out of the arena when a voice stopped them.

“Hey, are you Jack Zimmermann?” a man about their age had grabbed Jack’s arm and was studying him intently. “Holy shit, you are!”

He raised his arm to flag down his group before Eric could stop him, but Jack carefully peeled the stranger’s hand off of his arm.

“Sorry,” Jack said. “We’re leaving.”

“Hey, man, wait just a minute, will ya?” the stranger said, slapping Jack on the shoulder. Jack frowned.

“We’re in a hurry,” Eric interjected and nodded at Jack towards the doors. Jack didn’t need a second hint and immediately turned away, pulling his cap a little lower as he started to stride awy. “Sorry, folks. Hope you have a good night!”

The stranger gaped at him and at Jack’s retreating back and was obviously about to wind up to say something more before Eric turned tail and hurried after Jack himself, not wanting to completely lose him in the crowd. Jack had walked a little ahead of Eric, so Eric could only see the tense slope of his shoulders and back instead of his face through the slight press of the crowd. He didn’t catch up until they were well outside the arena.

“Hey, Jack, wait,” he said as he finally came within arm’s length of Jack. “They’re not following us.”

Jack turned back to him, looking more than a little hunted and scanned the crowd behind Eric to verify his report and then satisfied, relaxed a little.

“Sorry, Bittle,” he said.

“What?” Eric asked. “Don’t be silly. He was being an asshat.”

Jack’s shoulders slumped a little and he turned back to the street, starting to walk again. Eric walked a little faster to keep up with his much longer strides. They were at the truck in no time at all and Eric climbed in the cab without another word. Jack sat at the wheel in brooding silence.

“We can just go home if you want,” Eric said after several moments.

Jack looked at him in surprise, as though he had forgotten Eric was there at all. He seemed to soften right before Eric’s eyes and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“No,” he said. “If we go home, you won’t be able to give your pies to Parse. He’d never let me hear the end of it.”

Eric wasn’t going to let it go that easily either though.

“He’d get over it,” Eric said firmly. “I can always mail him the pies or something.”

“I don’t think pies mail very well,” Jack said. He had thrown his head back on the headrest and was staring up the ceiling before his eyes slipped closed. His Adam’s apple was in sharp relief against the bright lights of the arena that shone through the truck window and the sight of it exposed and vulnerable like that was enough to make Eric want to forget all about pies or hockey.

“I could...Skype him or something,” Eric said, struggling to string words together as he watched Jack. Jack cracked a single, doubtful eye open at that statement. “To teach him how to make one of his own,” Eric added hastily.

Jack’s eye slid closed again and he swallowed, his throat bobbing. Eric licked his lips and looked away.

 _This is not a date_ , he reminded him fiercely. _Stop it._

“I wouldn’t want to subject you to that,” Jack said, eyes still closed. For a moment, Eric had no idea what he was talking about. Jack let his head fall to the side and settled down in his seat again so he could look more directly at Eric. “Parse is a terror in the kitchen.”

Eric didn’t have a comeback for that. He didn’t have an excuse to keep looking at Jack either, but he couldn’t quite manage to peel his eyes away. Jack, for his part, was looking back.

“I wouldn’t have asked you to come if I knew it would be…” Eric finally managed. “I don’t know. Like this.”

“I wanted to come,” Jack said. He reached forward to put his keys in the ignition and turned the engine over before pausing again. “With you, I mean.”

Eric swallowed rapidly, his mouth dry with nerves.

“Well.” Then not knowing exactly how to continue, he said, “Good.”

The smile that had been threatening to break on Jack’s face finally came through and Eric returned it before looking down at his phone. He unlocked it with a swift swipe and started to punch in the address for the bar that they were headed to. A few seconds later, the phone began to spit directions at them. Jack nodded as he listened to directions and didn’t say anything when Eric also turned on some music, playing lowly in the background. The ride was quick, despite the snarl of traffic around the arena and when they arrived at the hotel bar, a valet was at the door to park the car almost as soon as Jack pulled into the overhang.

They headed inside together after Jack got a ticket from the valet. Eric felt immediately underdressed the moment they stepped into the lobby, but none of the staff seemed disturbed by their jeans and t-shirts.

“They’re used to it on game nights,” Jack said as if he could read Eric’s mind. “Besides, if the team is staying here, I’m betting it’s not nearly as fancy as it looks.”

Jack was proven right almost immediately when they stepped into the bar which was decidedly more casual than the imposing lobby. It was dark and spacious inside with tables extending farther back than Eric would have thought from the outside. There were several clusters of people around the bar and a few tables, but most of the tables near the back were unoccupied. They had ordered a drink each at the bar and then made a beeline for the back.

When Kent finally arrived at the bar almost half an hour later, he had two teammates with him to Eric’s surprise. Eric could see them from across the bar and waved. Kent nodded in their direction and pointed to the bar before leading his two teammates there to get drinks. Eric wasn’t sure if it was fair to Kent, but he had been expecting him to come alone. Jack seemed surprised next to him as well, but before Eric had a chance to comment, one of the guys Kent had brought detached himself from the bar and headed in their direction, grinning.

Eric couldn’t remember his name exactly. He hadn’t been on the Aces’ roster for very long, as far as Eric knew. He thought maybe he’d been picked up a month or so ago after one of the Aces’ D-men had broken a collarbone. The guy was long-limbed, but still solidly muscular in a way that would have garnered a second look from Eric in any normal setting. Here though, Eric carefully slid his gaze back to his own beer as the guy approached.

“Jack _fucking_ Zimmermann,” the guy said loudly and Eric looked up in time to see Jack being pulled into a one-arm hug from the guy. They slapped each other on the back and Eric raised an eyebrow at the small, but pleased smile on Jack’s face as he pulled away. “When Parser told me you were coming, I thought he was pulling my leg. It’s been absolute ages, man.”

“It has,” Jack agreed, sliding back into the booth beside Eric this time and letting the newcomer take his old spot. “Have you met Bittle yet?”

The guy shook his head and held out a hand across the table once he had settled himself.

“Hey man, Jeff Troy, nice to meet you,” he said as Eric shook his hand.

“Eric Bittle,” Eric said.

Troy grinned at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the genuineness of it. Eric couldn’t help but return the smile. He took a swig of beer in hopes that any flush on his face would be easily explained away by the alcohol.

“Jesus fuck, Zimms,” Kent said as he came over to the table a minute later. “You were supposed to ditch this Seattle loser. It’s bad enough I have to play with him now.”

Kent set two full beers on the table and Troy grabbed one even as Kent shoved him deeper into the booth so he could sit. LeBon, the third Ace, dragged a chair from a half-occupied table over to their booth and turned it around so he could straddle it as he sat.

“Was I?” Jack asked mildly, exchanging a look with Troy across the table. Troy cheered him silently with his beer before taking a gulp.

“Heya, Bittle, good to see you,” Kent said, nodding at him. “You’ve already met Swoops I guess, but this is Bones.”

LeBon nodded at him and Eric smiled back, giving a small, awkward wave before taking another gulp of beer.

Jack asked a question, but it wasn’t in English. Across the table, Troy barked a laugh and shrugged before responding in kind. Eric swept his eyes between the two as they volleyed back and forth in rapid-fire French before Kent finally interrupted.

“Hey assholes, not everyone speaks fucking French around here,” Kent said and then nodded to Eric with a conspiratorial wink. “Give Bittle a break.”

“His French is probably better than yours,” Jack said and Eric looked over at him in surprise before Jack smiled slyly and added, “And I’m pretty sure he failed one semester.”

“I did not,” Eric said indignantly.

Kent tsked and shook his head.

“Still probably better than Parser’s,” LeBon spoke at last, his French accent much thicker than Jack’s.

“Definitely better,” Troy added.

“Fucking Canadians,” Kent grumbled, but didn’t look actually put out. Beside him, Troy shoved him again and Kent let go of even the partial pout he had affected. He turned to Bittle. “I hear your season is going well. We caught a game against Yale on stream last week. They look sharp.”

“You watched a game?” Eric asked in surprise.

“We streamed it on the plane,” Troy said, nodding.

“That Poindexter kid is good,” Kent said. “Is he thinking about playing after graduation?”

“I think so,” Eric answered carefully. “I know he’s been approached, but I don’t think he’s made any decisions either way yet.”

“There wouldn’t be anything good enough to bite on yet,” Kent said, turning his glass around in his hands. “But if he waits it out, I’d be surprised if some team didn’t make it worth his while. He won’t make it to the big show right away or anything, but he could definitely keep playing if he wanted to.”

“Yeah, I think he knows that,” Eric said. “He went to a couple of development camps this past summer so time will tell, I guess.”

Kent nodded, clearly satisfied by that and the conversation moved on to different subjects, namely their days in Juniors since apparently Kent, Jack and Troy all played together at some point. Eric mostly listened, sipping his beer and watching as the men's’ faces lit up with good memories and laughter. At some point in the night, he became slowly aware of the fact that Jack had pressed their legs together under the table even though there was room enough to spare. He didn’t want to move away, just bask in the warm feeling it gave him deep in his gut, but eventually Kent pointed to the empty glass in front of him and gestured towards the bar. Eric reluctantly stood and followed, leaving Jack and the other two Aces behind.

Kent ordered a vodka soda for himself and paid for another one of Eric’s beers before turning his back to the bar and looking over to Eric.

“You’ll have to make the first move with him, you know,” Kent said without context or warning.

Eric almost spat out the mouthful of beer he had and only just managed to swallow it without choking.

“I’m sorry?” he asked, coughing a little to clear his throat.

Kent smiled, clearly amused at the effect his words had had. Eric had a feeling the timing had been intentional.

“He’s not really one for grand gestures or declarations of feelings,” Kent elaborated after a quick check that the bartender was on the other side of the bar from them. “You’ll have to nudge him along.”

“Oh,” Eric said, blinking at Kent. “I mean, I don’t...know that...I um…”

Eric sighed heavily and took a large swallow of beer before risking a glance back over to their table. Jack and the others were deep in conversation and Jack was nodding along at whatever Troy was gesturing wildly about.

“Have you told anyone yet?” he asked, grasping at anything to change the subject.

“No,” Kent said flatly. His expression had soured when Eric looked back to him. He glanced back at the table one more time before turning more fully to Kent and frowning.

“They seem like good friends,” Eric said softly.

Kent had a death grip on his glass.

“It’s not that simple,” he ground out.

“I didn’t say it was,” Eric said. “I know it’s not.”

Kent took off his cap and ran a hand through his still wet hair that was already curling in every possible direction. When he put the cap back on, he twisted it the back and straightened his shoulders.

“I was thinking of telling Swoops,” he said a little more confidently. “He’s staying with me until he finds his own place in Vegas and I’ve known him since we were kids.”

“Yeah, he seems cool,” Eric said as he looked over to where Troy was still in the middle of whatever story he was telling Jack and LeBon.

Kent gave him a sly look. Eric blushed at the unspoken accusation.

“Not like that,” he insisted.

Kent snickered. Eric resisted the urge to shove him to the ground, mostly because as small as Kent was for a NHL player, he still had at least 30 pounds on Eric, easily. Kent took a sip of his vodka and looked around them before leaning into Eric’s space and speaking lowly.

“The first time I ever blew Zimms was in the back of my car after practice one day,” he said, barely above a whisper. “We had stayed late to work on slapshots and had the parking lot to ourselves so I just pinned him against the car and went for it. We’d been dancing around it for months so I just pushed him into the backseat and started taking his pants off. Worked like a charm.”

“I’m throwing the pies I made you in the garbage,” Eric said before pushing off from the bar and heading back to the table. Kent howled in laughter behind him, following him back to the table.

“What’s funny?” LeBon demanded as soon as they both slid into the booth.

“Nothing,” Eric said, even though he knew Kent couldn’t possibly repeat himself in mixed company. He took another long drink of beer so he could hide his face a moment longer. He could feel Jack looking at him, but couldn’t bring himself to do anything but look into his half-empty beer glass until his heart stopped hammering at the thought of Jack Zimmermann naked and spread out in the backseat of a car and _oh, God…_

Eric snapped his attention up as Kent answered a question from Jack that he missed. He reached up to rub the back of his neck and knead the muscle there a moment before he forced himself to focus.

“...he’s totally fucking exaggerating. She did not bite him,” Kent was saying. “She barely nipped.”

“It broke skin!” Troy insisted. “I had bite marks on my hand the next day!”

“It was affectionate!” Kent practically yelled.

Troy, exasperated, turned back to Eric and Jack across from them and said emphatically, “That cat is a demon.”

“She’s perfect,” Kent said with a sniff.

“An awful creature,” LeBon contributed with a shake of his head.

Kent turned to Eric and held his phone out after tapping a few times.

“Have you seen her instagram?” he asked.

“Oh!,” Eric exclaimed as the first picture of an absolutely massive white cat loaded. “Cute.”

Troy made a sound of disgust.

Eric scrolled through the feed for a few minutes as the conversation flowed around him and then took out his own phone so he could follow the feed from his own account. When he put away his phone and slid Kent’s back across the table, nearly everyone was finished with their drinks.

“We should head out,” Troy announced after checking the time. “We have a plane to catch in the morning.”

No one argued the point and they all started to make the first moves of leaving. Eric slid out of the booth, followed by Jack whose hand briefly rested on the small of his back as he stood up beside Eric before it fell away again. Eric took the freezer bag in both hands and offered it to Kent after they had all exchanged one-armed hugs with each other.

“You don’t deserve these,” Eric announced. “But I can’t bear to throw a good pie in the trash.”

Kent laughed, a clear and loud sound that echoed in the now nearly empty bar and drew a few curious looks from the other remaining guests.

“Thanks, Bittle,” he said, taking the pies with the appropriate amount of ceremony.

“What is that?” Troy asked, peeking curiously at the bag. “Did you say pie?”

“Back off,” Kent said, shouldering him away. “They’re for me.”

“You can share,” Troy said disbelievingly. “Your cat mauled me last week.”

“For the last time, she did not,” Kent said, turning to him, clearly ready to rekindle the argument.

LeBon swore in French softly beside them  and Jack grinned at him.

“Make sure you get a piece of the apple,” Jack told Troy with the clear intention of provoking Kent further.

They said a second round of goodbyes before the Aces parted ways, heading towards the elevators in a cloud of bickering about the pies. Even LeBon had joined in by then, pitching his support for Troy and sharing.

“See what you started?” Jack teased as they walked outside into the cold together. Eric smiled and ducked his head as he hugged his jacket closer at the sudden rush of chilly air.

“I made two so he could share, not gorge himself,” Eric said.

Jack handed his ticket over to the valet and came back over to stand next to Eric, much closer than necessary. Eric felt himself leaning into Jack’s heat and Jack’s hand came up tentatively at first and then more confident to rub up and down Eric’s arm, as though to warm him up even though he already had a thick jacket on. Eric swayed even closer and leaned more fully against Jack. Jack’s hand curled around his arm lightly, holding him there until the valet drove up with his truck.

Jack stepped away without any indication of what had just happened to meet the valet and trade a bill for his keys. Eric watched him from behind as he walked around to the driver’s side of the truck and climbed in. He sighed, watching as his breath fogged in the air, before walking up to the truck to climb in himself.

 _It’s not a date_ , he reminded himself as he settled into the passenger seat for the drive home, but he couldn’t stop the small, hopeful voice that added, _this time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! So, we're officially over the hump of this story. I have 12 chapters total planned, so only 5 left!! I'm probably way more excited about that than you. 
> 
> \- _Will there ever be kissing in this story?_ , you ask. Oh man, I really hope so. Wait. I mean, yes, of course. Probably sooner rather than later, but I can't tell you *how* soon because it would ruin the surprise, y'know? But like there will be so much kissing. 
> 
> \- _Wow, Parse is kind of an asshole._ Yeah well, I don't know if he ever learned actual people skills. He's one of those bros who is both pretty and good at a sports thing, so he never actually had to learn how to be Human.
> 
>  **Up next:** Holiday blues in Georgia, New Years' Eve and picking up the season in January.
> 
> Also!! In the next few days, you should also keep an eye out for a one-shot fic I'll be posting for the Fandom Trumps Hate thing. It'll be super-cute Zimbits stuff and there's magic~~. Just subscribe to my author page here on ao3 and you'll get an email when I post it! Okay, self-endorsement complete.


	8. Chapter 8

Eric stayed behind after most of the boys had cleared the ice from practice to shoot pucks at Chowder. At first, he just fished new pucks from the ice around him to slap at the net to warm up his own arms. Once warm though, he gave Chowder the signal and took a puck to center ice before skating hard for the net and trying to score. Chowder who blocked the shot easily.

Before Eric could set up for second shot, the gate opened behind him and he turned to see Nursey skating back onto the ice, still in his practice gear. He nodded at Eric before using his stick to grab a puck and shoot it without much real intent towards the net. Chowder let it slide into the net without making any move to stop it and took the moment to drink from his water bottle instead.

“Harsh, C,” Nursey snorted before grabbing another puck and handling it with a little more intention.

Chowder cracked his neck from side to side and grinned at Nursey before putting his mask back down and getting into position. Nursey took the cue and skated to the left before feinting right and driving the puck towards the net. It never made it past the blue paint, instead making a loud thud as it met Chowder’s pads wide of the net.

“Nice,” Eric said, catching the rebounded puck on his tape and taking it wide.

Nursey and Eric spent the next twenty minutes trading off trying to score on Chowder and only being mildly successful. Nursey was tired after an already long week of practices and games and Chowder had grown into a formidable wall of a goalie in his four years at Samwell and he knew all of their tricks.

When Chowder finally indicated that he was done, they collected the pucks together, flipping them back into buckets to take them back to the equipment room.

“I thought you were going to the library with Whiskey,” Chowder said to Nursey as the three of them skated off the ice with the filled buckets and a collection of cones. Eric shut the gate behind him and followed the two seniors into the locker room.

“I was, but Dex went instead,” Nursey said with a shrug as he started to pull off his sweater and pads before they even made it fully into the locker room. He threw them on the ground next to his bag and started stripping the rest of his gear before Eric and Chowder even had a chance to sit.

“But —” Chowder started.

“It’s chill, man,” Nursey said.

Eric glanced up at that. Nursey was studiously looking through his bag for something instead of looking at Chowder or Eric. He grabbed his shower bag from behind him and headed to the shower without another word.

Chowder’s face was scrunched with concern as Eric’s eyes swung back over to him. He still almost in full gear, his hand paused over a latch on his right leg. He unfroze a moment later, started efficiently stripping himself of his gear and was in the shower himself a moment later. Eric changed his clothes while he waited for them to finish up, not needing the shower enough to venture into the grimy team showers. He was heading home after this anyways.

Nursey was the first back. He sat down on the bench and rubbed his face for a moment before digging into his bag to pull on a shirt.

“Nursey,” Eric ventured after a few moments of silence. “This thing with Dex --”

“Bitty, I don’t need this from you,” Nursey said.

“Excuse me?” Eric prickled.

“You act like you’re doing me a favor or like it’s part of your job now,” Nursey said. “But it’s not, man.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Eric sputtered.

“I get it,” Nursey said. “You used to solve all our fights for us and everything, but we’re not frogs anymore. Let it be.”

“I just know that Dex is in a tough spot right now,” Eric said.

Nursey sighed heavily.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Dex is always the one in a tight spot.”

“I didn’t mean to imply that you weren’t,” Eric said.

“It’s chill,” Nursey said in a tone that made it very clear that it was not. He turned back to his bag and then his hand froze before he frowned and looked back up. “No, you know what? I’m dating someone and I shouldn’t have to feel bad about that just because Dex finally figured out his sexuality or whatever. He can’t just expect me to rearrange my entire life because he finally decided he was interested.”

The air between them practically buzzed with tension as Eric absorbed the shock. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard the measured, tight tone in Nursey’s voice before. He pressed his lips together in a forced attempt not to speak too soon, but Chowder burst into the room before he could say anything at all.

“What kind of cookies did you say you made, Bitty?” Chowder asked, bulldozing through the silence. “Cait was just saying the other day how much she wanted a snickerdoodle, but…”

Chowder trailed off as he took in Eric’s tense posture and Nursey’s blank expression. He frowned.

“What’s up, guys?” he asked. “Did I miss something?”

“No,” Eric said, taking his cue from Nursey’s shrug. “Just a long day. I put some sugar cookies and chocolate chip in your box, but I can whip up some snickerdoodles for Farmer if she’s got a hankering.”

“Would you?” Chowder asked. “I mean, only if you have time! You don’t have to or anything, but she would love some.”

“Of course, it’s no problem,” Eric said, waving the concern away. He risked a glance back at Nursey who was just finishing getting dressed and zipping his duffel closed. “I’ve got plenty in my office if you want some, Nursey.”

Nursey shrugged again, but shook his shoulders out and nodded at Eric.

“Thanks, Bits, cookies are always appreciated before Hell Week,” he said.

“I’m so glad I never have to live through Hell Week again,” Eric sighed in satisfaction and stood up from the bench.

“Hashtag humblebrag,” Nursey said and punched him on the shoulder.

“Hell yeah,” Eric agreed. “Cookies are in my office whenever you two are ready.”

“Thanks, Bitty!” Chowder said, his voice muffled as he pulled himself into fresh clothes.

“I’ll come with you now,” Nursey said. “Unless you need some help with the shirt, C?”

Chowder popped his head out of the shirt and grinned at them.

“Got it,” he said. “But go ahead, I’ll be a few more minutes. Gotta put my gear up.”

Eric led the way out of the room and Nursey followed after he slung his bag over his shoulder. They walked in silence down the hallway until they were well clear of the locker room.

“I never meant to make you feel that way,” Eric said, stuffing his hands in his pockets as they walked. “Like you should be guilty or something. That’s not what I think at all and I’m sorry.”

Nursey let out a loud gust of air and Eric looked over to see him run a hand down his face. He was a few days unshaven and the stubble was a dark shadow along his jaw that made him look much older than he was. Not for the first time, Eric was reminded of how much the frogs had grown up in the past year alone - they were only a few months away from graduation themselves and no longer the kids he had met four years ago.

“It’s not like it’s just you,” Nursey said.

They had reached Eric’s office by then and Eric unlocked it and let them in before sliding the door closed.

“Right,” Eric said. “But it’s not fair of me to get involved anymore. I get it. You’re right.”

Nursey threw his bag down and sat in the empty chair across Eric’s desk as Eric fiddled with the two containers of cookies on his desk, flipping the lip open on one of them and sliding it across to Nursey who took one with a tip of his head in thanks.

“I like the girl I’m dating,” Nursey said. “I mean, she likes Keats way too much, but she’s chill, you know?”

“Yeah?” Eric asked. “Is she coming to a game sometime soon? We can all go out sometime maybe. I’m sure Farmer would love another girl around.”

Nursey leaned back in his chair and munched on his cookie.

“Tried that,” he said. “They didn’t really hit it off. Sarah...uh, she’s not really into sports?”

“Oh,” Eric said. “And that’s...okay?”

Nursey shrugged.

“It’s whatever, man,” he said.

“Well,” Eric recovered. “I’d still love to meet her. I’d love to meet anyone you date, Nursey.”

Nursey gave him a once-over and rolled his eyes.

“Message received, Bits,” he said. “You’re cleared to meet the girlfriend next game she comes to.”

“I’ll bake her a pie,” Eric promised.

“‘Swawesome,” Nursey said.

“I also promise to only bother you about Dex when it actually affects the team from now on,” Eric said, crossing his heart solemnly. “I am no longer your captain or Hausmate and it’s not any of my business anymore.”

Nursey swiped another cookie.

“Even ‘swawesomer,” Nursey said.

There was a light knock on the door and Chowder stuck his head in a moment later.

“Hey, guys,” he said, his eyes darting from Eric to Nursey and then clearly satisfied, he stepped more fully into the office. He zeroed in on the cookies almost immediately and Eric held out the larger tupperware box to him so he could grab one. “Thanks, Bitty! These look amazing.”

“Of course,” Eric said, please. “Just make sure at least a few of them make it back to the Haus.”

“No problem,” Chowder said, his mouth already full. Eric let him chew for a few moments.

“I was also hoping to ask you a favor actually, Chowder,” he said, fingering the edges of the second smaller tupperware box. Chowder looked up expectantly and nodded, his mouth full again from a second bite. “I, uh, just missed Jack when I tried to drop off some cookies to him this morning and I know you’ve got your final with him tomorrow, so I was hoping…”

“You made cookies for Jack, too? That’s so nice, Bitty!” Chowder said, already nodding. “I’m sure he’ll love them. I’ll have to hide them in my room so nobody finds them, but it’s no problem.”

“Great,” Eric said, relieved. “Thanks so much. I wouldn’t ask but he’s leaving for Montreal right after he gives your exam and I don’t think I’ll have a chance to see him before he goes since I missed him today.”

Nursey leaned forward to peer at the smaller box.

“So, Jack gets his own box now, huh?”

Eric couldn’t help the flush that he felt on the back of his neck.

“If I don’t get to comment on yours, you don’t get to comment on mine,” he said as primly as he could.

“Comment on what?” Chowder demanded.

“I’d date you if you made me cookies on the reg, Bits,” Nursey said, undaunted.

Chowder’s eyes widened and he looked at the box on Eric’s desk and then back to Eric himself. Eric rolled his eyes.

“It’s not like that,” he said, mostly to Chowder. He closed the lid on the bigger tin and set the smaller container on top of it before pushing them both across his desk. “Please make sure to hide it until class tomorrow so Dex doesn’t eat all of them or something.”

Chowder nodded, accepting his mission seriously.

“Do you want me to tell you how he reacts when I give him the cookies?” Chowder asked, almost in a whisper. “Like if he gets flustered or just does his serious face or something?”

Eric dropped his face in both of his hands and shook his head.

“That’s a yes,” Nursey snorted.

“Both of y’all need to get out of my office before I murder you.”

 

—

 

> **[ From: Jack ]**
> 
> _Thanks for the cookies. Where did you even find dreidel shaped cutters?_
> 
>  
> 
> **[ From: Eric ]**
> 
> _What planet do you live on? Target has Hannukah everything. ;)_
> 
>  
> 
> **[ From: Jack ]**
> 
> _Huh. Nice._
> 
> _My mom loved them too._
> 
>  
> 
> **[ From: Eric ]**
> 
> _:blushemoji:_
> 
>  
> 
> **[ From: Jack ]**
> 
> _I think she wants the recipe if it’s not too much trouble_
> 
>  
> 
> **[ From: Eric ]**
> 
> _I can send you it later ;) Hope you have a nice week with your family, Jack!_

  


\--

  


By the time his flight touched down in Atlanta, Eric’s anticipation for home had fizzled. It had taken all of two seconds of feeling the warm, muggy air before he missed the crisp cold of Boston that he’d grown accustomed to after so many years of living up north. The moment he saw his parents pull up to the curb, he pasted his best smile on and gave his mother a huge hug as she hopped out of the truck to greet him. Coach grabbed his bag from the ground beside them and swung it into the bed of the truck before giving Eric a pat on the back and climbing back into the truck.

Before long he found himself in his MooMaw’s kitchen, coring and peeling apples as she hummed beside him. He had walked over to her house after getting settled in at home and taking the hint from his mother that their kitchen would be commandeered for non-pie related endeavors for most of the evening and he would have better luck at his grandmother’s. He never minded. MooMaw had a smaller kitchen, but it was where he had originally learned how to bake.

She bustled around him now, letting him peel in peace as she made quick work of a lattice.

Eric’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he quickly rinsed his hands before wiping them on his apron and pulling his phone out. It was a text from Jack. They’d been exchanging pictures and brief texts regularly for a few weeks now and Eric had sent him a picture of a bucolic scene of cows and sunshine almost as soon as he had landed in Atlanta. He opened the text to find that Jack had sent him a picture of a car half-packed in snow. He smiled down at his phone, considering his response. As he was looking down at the picture, another message appeared.

 

> **[ FROM: Jack ]**
> 
> _Are you in Georgia all week?_

 

Eric’s heart gave an involuntary squeeze and he sighed as he sent the screen to sleep without replying immediately. He hadn’t seen Jack in almost two weeks, every attempted meet-up had been thwarted by practice, games or Jack’s own trip home for the holidays overlapping with Eric’s. In fact, he’d barely seen Jack at all for more than five minutes after they had parted ways after the Aces’ game. It was slowly driving him insane. The game had felt like the start of _something_ , but every chance to follow up on it had been ruined thus far.

He opened his phone up again and navigated to the picture of Jack smiling down at the small tin of cookies as Chowder delivered them that Nursey had sent him along with an obnoxious caption. He took in Jack’s expression for what must have been the hundredth time that week and tried to remind himself of how that night at the game had felt and how close they had been all night. He wasn’t imagining the fondness in Jack’s eyes or the soft tilt of his mouth, was he?

He opened Jack’s text again.

 

> **[ FROM: Eric ]**
> 
> _yes :( here until fri and then have a game on sun and a charity thing with the team on new years’ day before we leave for a quick roadie. I won’t really be ‘back’ until weds._
> 
>  
> 
> **[ FROM: Jack ]**
> 
> _I’ll be at the game Sunday._
> 
>  
> 
> **[ FROM: Eric ]**
> 
> _:-)_

  


MooMaw cleared her throat pointedly and Eric scrambled to put his phone away. She squinted at him knowingly and waved her spatula at him.

“If I’d’ve known I’d be getting a heartsick moonchild as a baking assistant today, I might have opted for your cousin Veronica instead,” MooMaw said. “She can peel and moon at the same time.”

Eric held up his hands in surrender and picked up his paring knife in compliance.

“That’s all, I swear,” he said. “I’m putting it away.”

MooMaw hummed in satisfaction and Eric turned back to the sink to resume his duties.

“I hope he’s cuter than Veronica’s boy,” MooMaw said after a few minutes of silent work. “That girl found herself the ugliest boy in Morgan County to get stupid over.”

Eric grinned down at the apples in the sink.

“Much cuter,” he confirmed.

MooMaw huffed in appreciation.

 

\--

 

> **Episode 6.15 - Revisiting Gingerbread and Other Old Favorites From Home**
> 
>  
> 
> [ _Hey, y’all! Merry Christmas! As the kitchen behind me might suggest, I’m back home in Madison! Does it feel like old times yet? I think I just need to find an ill-fitting Old Navy t-shirt and we’d be transported straight back to 2014. In honor of being home, I thought we’d re-visit some of those first recipes I did here in my MooMaw’s kitchen and I’m going to offer what wisdom, if any, I’ve gained with age. Our first flash from the past is gingerbread cookies! Folks, before we get rolling, I would like to warn you - the recipe we’re doing today is not for the buildin’ kind of gingerbread. These cookies are for eating and are under no circumstances meant for construction…._ ]

 

\--

  


It wasn’t fair, but Eric found himself counting the days until he could be home in Boston and at Samwell again the entire time he was in Madison. The smallest things would burrow under his skin as annoyances from the way his mother asked with an encouraging smile about his _lovely roommate_ Larissa and the way his dad said nothing at all more often than not. It felt exhausting whereas on previous visits after he’d come out, it had only felt disappointing. When he finally touched back down in Boston a week later, he felt like he needed to sleep for another week just to recover.

Shitty had been waiting for him at the airport. He took one look at Eric’s face and announced they were getting fro-yo on the way home, no complaints allowed. Eric wouldn’t have dreamed of complaining anyways.

“Sooo,” Shitty said as soon as Eric had loaded up his fro-yo cup with gummy bears and chocolate and sat down. “I had lunch with a certain tall, dark and handsome Canadian recently.”

Eric paused, spoon in mouth. He narrowed his eyes at Shitty and put his spoon back down, wedging it in the fro-yo.

“What for?” he asked as casually as he could manage.

Shitty grinned wolfishly at him.

“Don’t be jealous, Bits,” Shitty said and kicked him gently under the table. “It was all above the board. Besides, we barely talked about anything but you.”

“What?” Eric asked.

“Oh yeah,” Shitty said, nodding seriously as he took a bite of his own fro-yo. “It was ‘What was it like to play with Bittle?’ and ‘So does Bittle like this?’ all day long.”

“I thought you said it was just lunch,” Eric pointed out.

Shitty clapped a hand to his chest and then wagged a finger at Eric.

“Way to lawyer me, brah,” Shitty said. “We had lunch and then like out of nowhere, the wait staff were kicking us out for the dinner rush. It was the best non-date first date I’ve ever been on.”

Eric couldn’t help the very real pang of jealousy now. He hid it by digging more purposefully into his fro-yo, swirling the candies around in the already soupy mixture.

“Did you miss the part where I said all he wanted to talk about was you? For literal hours?” Shitty asked after a minute of letting Eric stew. “Brah, he’s a goner. Under the Eric Bittle Love Spell for sure.”

Eric put his spoon down and looked up at Shitty.

“You really think so?” he asked.

“Gonzo,” Shitty confirmed.

 

\--

 

The flicker of hope that the Aces’ game had stoked to a full-on torch was suddenly and unexpectedly guttered when after the game on Sunday Eric invited Jack to come clubbing with Lardo, Shitty and him on New Year’s Eve. Jack had barely even thought about it before giving him a flat no. Eric had been so flustered by the unexpected and adamant refusal that he had gone home straight afterwards, ducking out from dinner plans with some of the team.

After that, Eric had wanted to just spend New Year’s Eve alone with a bottle of wine feeling sorry for himself, but Lardo had vetoed his plan and instead forced him to get dressed and go to her back-to-back painting classes. She parked him and his bottle of wine in the far corner of the packed class and had stolen a few swigs of wine before she’d pulled herself together to teach.

“You gonna be alright alone back here?” she asked before leaving him.

Eric nodded.

“S’fine,” he said, already on the drunker side of tipsy. “I’m gonna die alone anyways, might as well get used to it.”

Lardo almost choked on her laugh.

“Bleak, Bitty,” she said. “Suuuuper bleak.”

Eric took another drink of wine and stared straight ahead at his blank canvas. Lardo patted him on the shoulder.

“If you need to hurl, the bathroom’s right there,” she said, nodding to the door on Eric’s left before she headed to the front of the classroom and started introducing herself to the gathered women up front.

Eric gave a valiant try at painting according to Lardo’s careful instruction, but his canvas was sloppy with colorful mistakes by the end of the class and looked only vaguely like the firefly-lit scene it was supposed to be. He added some random dots of color as she wrapped the class up and when the last student left, Lardo came back over to him and pulled up a chair.

“Nice interpretation,” she said. “I like the orange, dude.”

“Lards,” Eric said, slumping in his chair as he looked around them at the empty classroom. “Is this what adults do on New Year’s? Is this it?”

“God, I hope not,” she said, stealing the wine bottle away from him and tossing it in the trash after verifying it was empty. It had been empty for a while. “Shitty is gonna take you home, okay, Bits?”

“‘Kay,” he said, suddenly very tired.

Lardo hugged him tightly and he patted her arm before leaning his head on it and letting her hold him. He sniffed back the tears that stung at his eyes.

“Has he texted at all?” she asked.

“No,” Eric sighed. He burrowed a little further into her arms. “I really thought...well.”

“Yeah,” she agreed before squeezing him again and letting him go. She ruffled his hair. “Shitty just pulled up. C’mon, kiddo.”

“Not a kiddo,” Eric protested, but obediently swayed to his feet. Lardo wrapped an arm around his waist and marched him out the door.

He fell asleep in the back of Shitty’s sedan on the way home and only dimly remembered Shitty dragging him out when they got the apartment and walking him to the door. In the morning, when he woke up with sandpaper mouth and crusty eyes, he also found himself bracketed on either side by Lardo and Shitty. Lardo had cuddled herself into his side, still in paint-spattered work clothes, but Shitty was practically naked except for the blessed presence of his briefs.

Eric squinted at the clock on the bedside table and groaned. He was going to be late if he didn’t get a move on and there would be no one there to open up Faber for the charity event that was scheduled for the morning at the rink. He pushed at Lardo gently and she groaned before blinking blearily up at him.

“Hey, I gotta go to Faber or those little kids are gonna have to beat down the doors,” he whispered.

Shitty snored on, but Lardo grunted and rolled to a sitting position so Eric could crawl past her and swing his legs to the floor. He stood and patted her head as she lay back down.

“You guys didn’t have to stay with me,” he said, still whispering. “You were supposed to go out and have fun.”

Lardo smiled up at him and sank back into the pillow he’d just abandoned.

“Had to make sure you lived, bro,” she said, her eyes sliding shut.

“Thanks,” he said. She waved him off.

“Go have fun with the little monsters,” she murmured. “See you when you get back Wednesday.”

“Yeah,” Eric sighed. “See you then.”

He made it two feet out the front door before turning back for his travel duffel, packed before the wine yesterday, and his sunglasses. He didn’t take them off even when he got to Faber and downed two too many ibuprofen for his pounding head. As Eric went around turning on lights and making sure there were tables set up in the small conference room for the lunch they were having catered for the kids and the team, boys from the team slowly filtered in past him.

“You alright there, Bitty?” Dex asked as he passed him on his way to the locker room. Since the team was leaving for two away games directly after the morning skate with the kids and a short practice, all of the boys were bringing their gear and duffles in with them this morning and Dex had several bags hanging from his shoulders.

“Fine,” Eric said without elaboration.

“You gonna take the shades off anytime soon?” Dex asked with a teasing smile.

Eric grunted in response. Dex took the hint.

“You need me to do anything?” he asked instead.

Eric tilted his head to the side and took in the small conference room

“They’ll be here in like thirty minutes,” Eric said. “Can you make sure everyone is decent and ready to skate?”

“On it,” Dex said and turned to go.

 

\--

 

Two hours full of screaming 3rd and 4th graders later, Eric thought his head might explode. On any other day, he would have gleefully been pulling the kids around on sleds with the team, but today all he wanted to do was curl up in his office and sleep a few more hours. He’d freshened up in the bathroom before the busload of kids had arrived from the local Boys & Girls Club for their annual skate with the boys, but he’d had to reluctantly leave his sunglasses behind in his office even though the bright midday sunlight was still annoying to his eyes as it fell on the ice in Faber.

Dex seemed to have spread word that Eric needed the slack picked up that morning, because the boys were unnaturally helpful as they played hosts for the morning and any prodding to be more cheerful and friendly seemed to have been handled behind Eric’s back, which was just fine with him. By the time they got the kids off the ice and waved goodbye to them as they loaded back into their bus, Hall and Murray had arrived and were waiting to run through a few drills on the ice before loading everyone up on the charter bus that was arriving in an hour to take them up to New York for a few games. The boys had their first game tomorrow as a matinee and they hadn’t settled lines yet.

Eric wasn’t entirely sure when Jack appeared in the stands. At some point during drills, Nursey pulled to stop beside him and threw an elbow before jerking his chin in the direction of the players’ bench where Jack was leaning against the partition. Eric heart clenched painfully before he shrugged, trying hard for a non-reaction.

“You’ve still get some skating to do,” Eric said.

“Yes, Coach Bittle,” Nursey said, saluting him before gliding back in the direction of Dex and the two other D-men.

“I told you not to call me that,” Eric called after him.

“Bro, it’s got such a nice ring though,” he said.

Eric rolled his eyes and skated back over to his group of forwards. He focused on their footwork for the next half hour until Murray finally blew his whistle and called for cooldown laps.

Instead of heading straight for laps, half the team converged on Jack to pepper him with questions. Jack waved apologetically to Murray but the coach waved him off and yelled, “After you’re done over there, I still expect five laps.”

Murray skated over to Eric and stopped.

“Bus is ready to go outside, so once they’re all showered and changed, they can go ahead and start loading up,” he said. “We wanna be on the road by two, I think.”

“Yes, sir,” Eric said. They drifted together over to the players’ bench and then parted as Eric heard Nursey ask a little too loudly why Jack had come by. Eric was almost sure it was purely for the benefit of chirping him, especially when Chowder chimed in.

“Yeah! Not that it’s not great to see you, but campus is kind of deserted right now,” Chowder said.

“Oh, uh, I needed to get something from my office that I left there,” Jack said. He had spotted Eric by then and smiled, giving him a small wave. Eric pressed his lips together and waved back, but it must have looked as forced as it felt because Jack’s expression fell. He turned back to the boys crowded around him. “I knew you guys had a thing this morning, so I thought I’d swing by and wish you good luck on the road,” he said.

As Eric walked through the gate, Jack kept trying to make eye contact with him, but Eric steadfastly avoided it.

“Wow! That’s so great, Jack,” Chowder said. “We really appreciate it.”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “You’re looking sharp out there, Chow.”

Murray warned the boys again about their cooldown laps and Eric took the opportunity to slip past them and into the locker room, which was blessedly empty. He took the opportunity to sit down and take off his skates, trading them out for his waiting sneakers.

He let his head fall into his hands with a sigh. It had been silly for him to expect something more out of Jack even if they had been talking so much lately. He had his dramatics last night and it was time to get over it. He could be just friends with Jack. It would be fine. Easy, even. They’d already been just friends this whole time anyways.  

Eric ran a hand through his hair and shook himself. He stood and looked around the empty room before checking his phone for the time. They needed to be on the road in less than an hour and the boys would need to be rounded up soon to start loading their gear if they had any hope of leaving on time.

“Bittle?”

Eric started at his name and spun around to see Jack hovering awkwardly in the hallway that led to the rink. His face was half in shadows from the dimly lit hall, but Eric could see that he was frowning.

“Jack!” he said as brightly as could. “Is something wrong?”

Jack stepped out of the shadows and more fully into the locker room, his eyes flicking around the empty room in question before settling back on Eric.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Jack said. “You left in kind of hurry there.”

“Oh,” Eric said and turned back to the stall he was tidying. “I just realized how late it was, I guess. We need to start loading up so we can hit the road. It was awful nice of you to come by and wish the boys luck though. I know they adore you and it means so much when you come to the games.”

Eric made to grab a sweater that was halfway on the ground from where it had been thrown on the bench. He folded it gently before putting it back on the bench and looking around for something else to do with his hands.

“Bitty,” Jack said and Eric froze. Jack had somehow closed the space between them without Eric even noticing and he was now right behind him. Eric sighed.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said, turning around to face Jack. “I swear, Jack, I just…”

Eric trailed off when he saw the expression on Jack’s face.

“Bitty,” Jack said again and stepped even closer. His arm rose, faltering in the space between them before he seemed to make a decision and cupped Eric’s face. Eric froze as his thumb traced across his cheekbone, fixed to the spot by Jack’s intense, searching gaze.

“Jack?”

Without preamble, Jack leaned forward and kissed him, a gentle press of his lips against Eric’s. By the time Eric unfroze himself from the pure shock of the moment, Jack was already pulling away. Eric blinked his eyes open to look up at Jack and found Jack hadn’t retreated very far. Jack opened his mouth to say something, but Eric reached up and kissed him instead, not ready for the moment to be over. Jack seemed more than happy to be interrupted judging by the eager slide of his lips and his hands curling possessively around Eric’s neck.

They were interrupted suddenly by a loud round of applause and Eric jumped back to see half the team had somehow gathered in the hallway to gawk at them. Jack made a small sound of surprise beside him and tried to put some space between them, but Eric’s hand twisted in his shirt involuntarily at the movement and even though he let go a split second later, Jack stayed put as though he hadn’t.

“Biiiiits,” Nursey said, grinning like Cheshire cat as he led the round of applause. “This is gonna cost you.”

“I’m not on the team anymore,” Eric said with a huff. “You can’t fine me.”

“Kissing in the locker room is pretty egregious,” Dex agreed, leaning in the wide door jamb. “What do you think Chowder?”

“Well, Bitty did fine me once for kissing Cait in here after a game,” Chowder said, looking between Eric and Dex. Then with a wince at Eric’s sharp, indignant inhale, he added hastily, “But Bitty isn’t on the team anymore either! So, I don’t know if we have grounds.”

Jack’s hand drifted to the small of Eric’s back, steady and warm there, and Eric looked over at him to find him grinning at the hockey team.

“Don’t encourage this by laughing at them,” Eric said, mock offended. “You’re the one who told me I should establish my authority with them.”

Jack let out a real laugh at that and his hand curled with even more intention around Eric’s hip, drawing him closer.

“I see you really took the advice to heart,” Jack said softly enough that most of the boys wouldn’t hear him. Eric elbowed him gently, but allowed the crowding of his space without comment.

“Y’all better be showered, packed and ready to load up in 20 minutes or less,” Eric announced loudly which elicited several groans from the group that had assembled. He rolled his eyes at them and then brandished a finger at Jack. “You, come with me.”

Eric marched out of the locker room so quickly he didn’t look behind him to see if Jack was actually following, but the moment the door shut behind them, Jack’s hand ghosted on Eric’s back before he pulled it away again. Eric glanced at him and felt the air rush out of him when Jack was looking back with a soft smile.

Eric changed directions suddenly, not wanting to go to his office and risk running into Murray and Hall down the hallway. Instead, he led the way outside to a side door of the arena that was just around the corner from the loading dock. He opened the door and looked back to Jack, feeling suddenly a little bit shy.

“I used to come out here to cry when I was scared I’d be kicked off the team,” he said as he held the door open for Jack.

Jack frowned, his forehead wrinkling.

“Why would you ever get kicked off the team?” Jack asked. “You were the best forward they had. Your stats last year were crazy.”

Eric shrugged, not sure why he’d brought it up at all. He sat on the edge of the loading dock and looked out at the empty concrete behind Faber. Jack sat next to him, his arm brushing against Eric’s, their hands almost touching. Eric stared down at them, trying to call up the requisite bravery it would take to just hook his pinky finger over Jack’s.

“Freshman year was rough,” Eric said instead. “I’d never been in a checking league before and I’m...small.”

Jack tried to cover the snort of laughter at that, but Eric looked up to see him smirking. He rolled his eyes in return.

“I got over it,” he said.

“You did,” Jack confirmed.

Eric swung his legs back and forth as an awkward silence fell between them. Jack cleared his throat.

“Are you liking the lines for the games this trip? Looks like you’ve got some good speed in your top pairings. Whicker has improved a lot,” Jack offered.

Eric sighed and licked his lips before choosing his words carefully.

“Mr. Zimmermann, as much as I love talking hockey with you,” Eric said. “We have less than ten minutes before those boys start to wonder where I am again.”

“Oh,” Jack said, his ears going slightly red which wreaked havoc on Eric’s already twitterpated heart rhythms. “Right.”

“Right,” Eric agreed.

“So...” Jack trailed off.

“So…” Eric echoed.

Jack looked suddenly nervous. The wrinkles in his forehead were back and Eric wanted to smooth them away with his fingers badly, but he kept his hands to himself.

“I’m sorry for not saying yes to going out last night,” Jack said quietly. “I just...really don’t like parties like that and I didn’t know how to explain.”

“Oh,” Eric said, flooded with a sudden shame. “I...I know crowds aren’t fun for you and I should have remembered before I asked. Jack, I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s…” Jack said, looking frustrated. He turned to face Eric, angling towards him from his seat next to him. “I wanted...I mean...I was thinking of what kissing you would be like on New Year’s.”

“Oh yeah?” Eric asked, suddenly breathless.

Jack’s frustration melted into a smile at finding the right thing to say.

“Yeah,” he said and leaned a little closer to Eric.

“Did I live up to the hype?” Eric asked.

Jack cocked his head to the side as if seriously considering the question for a long moment before Eric gently shoved his shoulder. Jack laughed again and leaned down quickly to capture Eric’s lips. Eric let his mouth fall open and Jack deepened the kiss without hesitation, his tongue sliding into Eric’s mouth.

Eric thought if it was possible to just live in a single moment for the rest of his life, he might want to live in this one.

When they finally came up for air, Jack leaned his forehead against Eric’s for a moment before dropping a kiss there. Eric couldn’t help but smile up at him and burrow even closer into his arms, which Jack obligingly tightened around him, Eric buried his face in the crook of Jack’s neck and dropped a kiss at the base of his throat before settling.

“You did, by the way,” Jack said, his chest rumbling under Eric’s ear. “Live up to the hype.”

Eric exhaled a laugh and then kissed the side of Jack’s neck again, not yet ready to move even if it meant more advantageous kissing positions. Jack seemed to be in no hurry either.

“I’m glad,” Eric said quietly.

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” Jack said.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Eric said. “I don’t mind you taking your time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for still reading even though this fic has the most erratic update schedule ever. Ahhhh, I blame playoff hockey! and moving! and...and...probably my dog? IDK what she did, but she looks suspicious.


	9. Chapter 9

By the time Eric shut his hotel room door behind him that night, he was well and truly exhausted. He flopped onto the closest bed to the door and lay there for several minutes in the silence, just trying to stop his head from spinning. He couldn’t even tell if he was still hungover from last night or just so overwhelmed by the fact that Jack kissed him that his brain wasn’t functioning anymore. The last five hours on a bus full of boisterous hockey players with fresh chirping content had been hellish when all he really wanted to do was talk to Jack about what just happened. 

Even when he’d tried to text Jack, he’d been met with wet, smacking kissing sounds and several of the boys trying to read over his shoulder. He’d finally given up and just texted, “I’ll call you when we get to NY” and then thinking that looked too curt, added a string of hearts a moment later before quickly shoving his phone back in his pocket.

He reached for it now, fishing it out. Normally, he would have to sort through all of his notifications before doing anything else, but now he just opened his contacts and scrolled right to Jack’s name. He took a deep breath before pressing it and then tucked his phone under his ear and turned on his side so wouldn’t have to hold it in place.

Jack answered on the second ring.

“Hey,” Jack said. Eric bit back a sigh and allowed himself his first genuine smile in hours, relaxing into the bed.

“Hi,” he said.

There was a long silence, but it wasn’t awkward. Eric could hear Jack’s steady breathing on the line and he closed to his eyes.

“I wanted to text you on the bus,” Eric said finally. “It’s just…”

“No, it’s fine,” Jack said. “I understand.”

Another silence.

“I actually thought it would be another hour or two before you could even call,” Jack said.

“Oh,” Eric said. He pinched his nose. “I skipped out on team dinner.”

“Bittle,” Jack admonished, but Eric could almost hear his smile. “You should eat.”

“I know,” Eric said. “But I wanted to call you.”

A beat and then, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Where are you? Back in your room?” Jack asked quietly. Eric heard the sound of a door closing quietly and some shuffling in the background of the call.

“Yes,” he said and then, without thinking, added, “I wish you were here.”

“Sorry,” Jack said.

Eric’s face scrunched in confusion and when no explanation was forthcoming, he prompted, “What for?”

“Bad timing, if nothing else,” Jack said.

Eric hummed and flipped onto his back, catching the phone against his ear.

“I meant what I said earlier about taking your time,” Eric said. “Really.”

There was another long stretch of silence on the line and Eric could hear several measured huffs of breath. He wondered where Jack was, his mind wandering briefly to the possibility that Jack too was in bed before he shook himself back into the moment at hand.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been interested in...a relationship,” Jack said haltingly. “I’ve been so focused on work and making a life for myself that it was always an afterthought. I don’t -- I mean -- I want....”

Jack trailed off with a frustrated noise. And oh, the words that Eric wanted to fill in that blank. Chief among them: _ you _ . Jack settled instead on, “I want that to not be true anymore.”

Eric’s mouth twitched and he leaned his head back on the pillow before kicking his legs out in pent-up adrenaline. 

Jack was  _ interested _ . Jack wanted a  _ relationship _ . Jack was waiting on him to respond.

“Bittle?” he asked uncertainly.

“I’m here. It’s just --” he laughed a bit. Eric pressed a hand to his mouth to calm himself down for another few seconds. “This is not how I thought this day was going to go when I woke up this morning, is all. It’s a little overwhelming.”

“Sorry,” Jack said again.

“No, that’s not --” Eric stopped himself again and took a deep breath. “There’s nothing to apologize for, Jack. It’s a good overwhelmed. A really, really good overwhelmed.”

“Oh, uh, good,” Jack said.

Eric laughed into the silence, a release of the coiled excitement he’d been feeling since getting on the bus earlier. Jack let out a loud breath of air on the other side of the line and Eric couldn’t see him, but he could picture the half-shy smile that was probably on Jack’s face right then.

“You’re back on Wednesday, right?” Jack asked. “Can I take you to dinner?”

Eric was glad he was already laying down because he thought if he’d been standing, his knees might have buckled in a swoon.

 

\--

 

The three days on the road passed in an uncharacteristic blur of hockey and Eric waiting for his phone to buzz with another incoming text from Jack. The boys on the team teased him mercilessly all trip-long, silenced only by a brutal loss in their second game early on  Wednesday afternoon. Dropped passes, missed hits and several dumb penalties combined to a humiliating 6-0 defeat. 

Eric had been to more cheerful funerals than the locker room after their last game. Even Hall and Murray didn’t have much to say and left Eric in charge of herding the boys back onto the bus, which was fine since they were so somber that it didn’t take much besides announcing where the bus would be to get them moving. No one liked to hang out in the visitors’ locker room after a loss like that.

About two hours into the bus drive home, Eric stirred from his spot at the back of the bus and pushed his way up the aisle until he found the frogs. It took him by surprise to find Nursey curled into the window, sharing a pair of earbuds with Dex instead of Chowder, which had been more the norm this year. Dex was awake and scrolling his phone when Eric came and settled in the empty seat next to Chowder and he elbowed Nursey awake. Nursey snorted and then started awake, glaring at Dex before moderating his expression into something more neutral.

“What?” Nursey asked, obviously grumpy.

Dex didn’t answer, just nodded toward Eric. 

“Oh,” Nursey. “‘Sup, Bits?”

Chowder, obviously not in the mood for a pep talk yet, kept his headphones on and turned towards the window instead of Eric. Eric patted his knee understandingly and turned into the aisle towards Dex and Nursey instead. He pitched his voice low, both to not disturb the quiet of the bus and to keep what he was saying semi-private.

“I just wanted to say that I know today was tough,” Eric said. Dex snorted and rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat. Eric poked his knee from across the aisle before continuing. “But you guys have looked like a real D-pair again this roadie and even though it doesn’t feel like it, you two are putting up solid numbers.”

Nursey sat back against the small nest of blankets he’d made and squinted at Eric. He scratched the side of his head and pursed his lips, as though he was going to say something but thought better of it. 

“A rough patch here or there isn’t going to tank the whole season,” Eric said, guessing at what he was thinking.

“This entire season has been a rough patch,” Dex said.

Chowder made an affirmative noise behind Eric and Eric turned around to give him a look. He shrugged at Eric and slid his headphones back on from where he’d obviously pulled them off one ear.

“We’re not out of it yet,” Eric said. “We can still turn it around.”

“Yes, Captain,” Nursey intoned with a smirk. Dex glanced back at him and then to Eric. 

“Baxter said there was a scout there this afternoon,” he said almost in a whisper as he leaned across the aisle.

“Fuck getting your information from Baxter, man,” Nursey said. Dex swiped behind him but Nursey ducked out of the way.

Eric winced. He’d heard talk of a scout as well. It hadn’t been a great game to showcase, if so.

“There will be other scouts at other games,” Eric tried instead. Dex looked unconvinced, but Eric didn’t blame him. 

“Bitty, your boy going to welcome you home?” Nursey asked suddenly. 

Eric blushed even though he recognized the segue for the distraction it was. Before he could stammer out a response, Chowder popped back into the conversation, headphones around his neck as though he’d been listening the whole time anyway.

“Oh, is he?” Chowder asked. “It’s so great that you two are dating! Jack is so great.”

“He -- we’re -- we haven’t --” Eric stumbled over his words.

“Bits,” Nursey said, grinning like a shark who smelled blood in the water. “Did you guys skip right past DTR and into making out in the locker room? Nice.”

“D-T-R?” Dex asked, sounding out each letter doubtfully. 

“Defining the Relationship,” Chowder answered. Eric gave him a surprised look and Chowder grinned in response. “When Ransom and March were dating last year, Cait and her talked a lot about her needing to ‘DTR’.”

Chowder used air quotes around the acronym and Eric couldn’t help the small burst of laughter that escaped him at that. Chowder looked absurdly pleased.

“It’s none of your business what my relationship status is,” Eric said once he was able to peel his incredulous eyes away from Chowder. 

“You gotta lock that ass down, Bits,” Nursey said. “Like, you do not even want to know some of the things that people would do to get Jack Zimmermann alone.”

“Oh, yeah?” Dex asked, raising an eyebrow at Nursey. “And you would know because?”

“Chill, Poindexter,” Nursey said. “Tall, dark and Canadian so isn’t my type.”

“I only graduated last year, Nursey,” Eric said, exasperated. “I know exactly what people say about Jack.”

“My point exactly, Bits,” Nursey said and Eric shook his head. “You gotta act now.”

“I don’t think --” Eric started.

“So, Nursey,” Chowder interrupted, with a too-sweet tone. “What exactly  _ is _ your type?”

Eric twisted around to see Chowder with a blankly innocent face. Eric cleared his throat and looked back to over to the two defense men, who both seemed to be suddenly at a loss for words. Nursey was in a staring contest with Chowder and Dex had his face buried in his phone again. 

“I’ll leave you guys to it,” Eric said, with another raised eyebrow at Chowder. He stood up from his seat and started making his way back to his own seat again. He stopped along the way to check in with the freshman who were whispering amongst themselves, but they seemed to be in considerably better spirits now that they had crossed states lines and put New York behind them. Eric couldn’t help but agree with them.

By the time he made it back to his seat, he had two texts from Jack waiting for him and less than three hours on the road to go until home. He tried to settle back down into his spot, dozing off several times, but his skin was practically buzzing with the idea of seeing Jack again and every time Eric thought he was calming down, another text from Jack would arrive and his heart rate would skyrocket again. 

When they finally pulled into the back parking lot of Faber, Jack was waiting by his truck just beyond the loading dock. Eric waved to him before throwing up his both hands in a gesture for 10 minutes and walking inside. Jack came inside anyways only a few minutes later, carrying one of Chowder’s gear bags and chatting easily with the goalie.

“Jack,” Eric said in surprise when he saw him walk into the building. “You could have waited in the car.”

He tucked his clipboard under his arm and grinned at Jack. Jack grinned back and then stepped forward a little awkwardly, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Anyways,” Chowder interjected and Eric tore his gaze away from Jack to look over at him. “Do you want me to create a distraction so you guys can go make out again or…?”

Eric blushed deeply and swatted at Chowder’s arm before pushing him towards the locker room. He suddenly sympathized deeply with Nursey’s death glare from earlier on the bus. Chowder was a merciless matchmaker. 

“No,” Eric said firmly. “But you can go put up all your shit so I can leave.”

Chowder waggled his eyebrows at Eric and Eric scowled at him before giving him another light shove. Chowder saluted him and then grabbed his second gear bag from Jack and said, “Thanks, Jack! Good to see you!”

“Uh,” Jack said as Chowder left them alone in the long hallway. When Eric looked back at him, he looked somewhere between deeply embarrassed and amused. “Sorry, should I have stayed outside? I just thought if I could help, we could leave quicker.”

Eric pressed his lips together firmly to hide the goofy grin that he could feel creeping onto his face again. He took out his clipboard, but the words seemed blurry all of sudden. All he could think about was how much he really, really wanted to kiss Jack hello. He glanced up and immediately blushed again to see Jack looking back at him and smirking a little, as if he could tell how flustered Eric was.

Eric rubbed his face and shook himself.

“Thanks for that,” he finally managed to croak. “I don’t actually have to do much of anything besides make sure they all clear out of here and put away their assigned equipment.”

“Which is exactly why you’re going to let us handle it from here,” Dex’s voice floated down the hallway and Eric turned to see both him and Nursey approaching rapidly.

“Yoink,” Nursey said as he swiped the clipboard from Eric’s hands.

“Excuse me?” Eric asked as he tried to grab it back. Nursey dangled it overhead with a grin. Jack snorted in laughter and Eric shot him a betrayed look.

“I already checked with Murray and he said it was fine for you to head out so long as Nursey and I stayed behind until all the boys are out,” Dex said smugly, crossing his arms on his chest.

“We’ll even put little check marks next to everyone’s name as they leave, Bits,” Nursey said, crossing his heart with the hand that wasn’t dangling the clipboard.

“And put the finished list in my office when you’re done?” Eric asked.

Nursey rolled his eyes.

“We wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise,” Nursey said and then dropping his arms to his side, he looked to Dex. “We’re super responsible, right, Dex?”

Dex nodded in mock solemnity.

“If you two burn this building down over some stupid argument while no-one is here to play referee...” Bitty warned, waving a finger at them.

“Chill, Bits,” Nursey said.

“Just go, Bitty,” Dex said. “It’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, Bits,” Jack said suddenly, his voice soft and teasing from behind Eric. “It’ll be fine.”

Eric turned to see him smirking again and rolled his eyes in defeat.

“I’m serious about not burning the building down,” he said again.

“Gotcha,” Dex said. “See you at practice  Friday .”

“Okay,” Eric said, giving the two boys one last calculating look before turning to Jack and nodding. “Let’s go.”

Jack smiled widely, his eyes crinkling around the edges.

“Thanks, guys,” he said to Dex and Nursey, giving them a nod.

“Have fun,” Nursey said in a sing-song voice as Eric led the way out the door.

“Unbelievable,” Eric grumbled to himself as the cold air from outside hit him as he walked outside. He wrapped his coat a little more tightly around himself and waited for Jack to catch up to him. He wasn’t that far behind and caught Eric in a few, easy strides. The truck unlocked ahead of him and Jack swiftly opened the passenger door before walking around.

Eric closed his door as Jack was climbing into the cab still. He leaned his head back and sighed, trying to reset after the long trip. When he opened his eyes, Jack was studying him closely but didn’t say anything.

“Hi,” Eric said softly. “I don’t think I’ve said that yet.”

Jack smiled and shifted in his seat so he was facing Eric more fully.

“Hi,” he said and reached out to cup Eric’s face. Eric leaned into the touch and then pushed himself out of his seat and leaned over the gear shaft to kiss Jack. Jack’s hand curled around the back of his neck, holding him in the kiss for a long moment before letting Eric pull back again and sit back down.

Eric caught Jack’s hand as it fell away from his face and held it to his chest, letting the moment settle between them in the stillness of the car.

“You’re exhausted,” Jack murmured, squeezing his hand.

“No, I’m fine,” Eric insisted even as he fought off a yawn. He rubbed his eyes and tried to sit up a little straighter.

Jack was clearly unconvinced. He gently untangled his hand from Eric’s and pulled his keys out to start the truck.

“We can get take-out, so you can just eat and go to bed,” Jack determined, already pulling out of the parking lot.

“Jack,” Eric said. “I’m fine. Let’s go to dinner.”

Jack glanced at him and then offered a hand for him to hold across the gear shift again. Eric took it, threading their fingers together.

“I’m not going anywhere, Bittle,” Jack said. “I’m still going to want to take you out to dinner on nights when you’re not dead on your feet.”

Eric snorted. He ran his thumb along Jack’s rougher hand and sighed. He knew Jack had a point, but he couldn’t help his disappointment at the change of plans. Then again...if he fell asleep a restaurant table, would that really be a date?

“Fine,” he said, caving in to the creeping exhaustion he felt. “But it better be something super unhealthy.”

Jack gave him a withering look before turning back to the road.

“You sent me pictures of no less than three cheeseburgers you ate while you were on the road,” Jack said pointedly.

“Plenty of protein,” Eric said.

“Plenty of carbs and grease too,” Jack said.

“Jaaack,” Eric said, pouting for effect. “Can’t we be healthy tomorrow?”

Jack sighed, sounding very put-upon, but Eric saw his mouth twitch into a smile, giving him away. Eric pulled out his phone and started typing immediately.

“There’s a pizza place open late near my apartment,” he said. “I’ll call in an order.”

 

\--

 

 

By his third slice of pizza, Eric was drowsy and overfull. He started drifting not long after, only halfway through the action movie they’d picked to watch once they’d made it to his apartment with the pizza. Jack took the mostly empty plate from his hands and allowed Eric to rest his head in his lap. Eric dozed off not long after, but Jack didn’t wake him until the credits of the movie were rolling nearly an hour later.

“Mmm, what?” Eric asked as Jack gently squeezed his shoulder and shook him awake. 

“Hey, it’s time to put you to bed, I think,” Jack said quietly. His face loomed over Eric in the soft blue light of the tv. Eric blinked up at him, his brain rapidly re-orienting himself to the situation. 

“Oh my God, Jack,” Eric said, sitting up quickly. “I’m so sorry for falling asleep like that.”

Eric patted his ruffled hair down self-consciously and sighed. It would be hopeless until he showered in the morning, probably. Besides, he’d probably been drooling on Jack all of two minutes ago, so what’s a little unkempt hair at this point? He shot a sheepish glance at Jack, but he seemed entirely unconcerned. 

“C’mon,” Jack said, standing up from the couch and offering a hand to Eric. Eric took it reluctantly, but couldn’t help the huge yawn he let go of as he stood. 

“Sorry,” Eric mumbled, yawning again. 

“Which one is yours?” Jack asked, gesturing to the doors down the hallway. Eric just waved for him to follow and dragged himself down the hallway. He felt a small flash of relief that someone, probably Lardo, seemed to have made his bed with fresh sheets while he was gone. He groaned as flopped down in bed without ceremony. 

Jack laughed, no louder than a whisper, before pulling the blanket down and then gently covering Eric with it. He tucked it up around Eric’s shoulder and Eric blinked up at him sleepily as Jack ruffled his hair gently. 

“You’re not staying?” Eric asked with another yawn. 

“Not tonight,” Jack said with a smile. 

“Mmm,” Eric made a noise of agreement and sighed with contentment at the softness of the bed compared to the stiff couch cushions.  “This is the worst first date ever, huh?” Eric mumbled even as he snuggled deeper into his pillow. 

Jack laughed again and Eric felt the bed tilt as he sat down next to him. A moment later, Jack’s fingers were lightly tracing the outline of Eric’s jaw and then Jack was kissing him, soft and sweet. Eric propped himself up on his elbow to kiss Jack back more fully for a moment before collapsing back down on the pillow in a tired heap.

“I don’t know,” Jack said softly as he pulled away, hand still resting on Eric’s neck. “I didn’t throw up on your shoes.”

Eric groaned and turned his face into the pillow.

“I shouldn’t have told you that story,” he said. 

Jack squeezed his neck, his fingers running through Eric’s hair for a brief moment before he took his hand back. Eric made a small noise off complaint. 

“Get some sleep, Bittle,” Jack whispered. 

Eric squirmed his hand out from under the blanket and grabbed Jack’s hand before he could stand up. 

“Tomorrow? We can do something for real?” Eric asked. His eyes were drooping closed, heavy with sleep, and he blinked them open to squint at Jack in the dim light of his bedside lamp. All of the sharp angles of Jack’s face were softened in the low light and he looked decidedly more rumpled than Eric thought he had ever seen him. It was a good look. A look he wouldn’t mind seeing again. He smiled at the thought and Jack caught the corner of his lips with his thumb before pressing another kiss there. 

“Tomorrow,” Jack promised. “We can do dinner again.”

He squeezed Eric’s hand one last time and dropped a kiss on his forehead before standing and turning off the lamp, retreating into the darkness of the room towards the door to leave. 

“Goodnight, Bittle,” he said, probably suspecting Eric had already dropped off. He opened the door and the blue light from the TV in the living room filtered down the hallway to cast shadows in Eric’s room. 

“Hey Jack?” Eric whispered. He could see Jack pause halfway out the door and turn back to him, leaning on the doorframe. 

“Yeah?” Jack asked. 

“Do you wanna do brunch instead?” 

“Sounds good, Bits.”

Eric made a guttural sound of approval before lifting a hand in a sleepy wave and turning over.

“G’night, Jack,” he said a moment later as he heard his door clicking shut quietly. He wasn’t sure if Jack heard him or not, because he was asleep a moment later.

 

\--

 

Eric woke uncharacteristically early, wide awake and alert despite the hour. He groaned at his phone when he saw it was only half past eight, but swung himself out of bed anyways. He had a text from Jack waiting for him, sent late last night, that assured him that he didn’t actually have to wake up early for brunch if he didn’t feel up to it. Eric smiled dumbly down at it and wondered if it was too early in the morning to send Jack a text asking him what time he wanted to come over. His thumbs hovered over the screen a moment longer before he put the phone aside and decided to at least shower first. 

It was a more respectable quarter past nine when he had showered, had his first cup of coffee, and finally sat down to text Jack that he was awake. His phone had just buzzed with a response when Lardo came wandering down the hallway.

She frowned at Eric sitting alone on the couch in the living room and ducked into the kitchen before quickly wheeling back out and giving Eric an even stranger look.

“What?” Eric asked.

“Where’s Jack?” she asked, coming over to sit next to him on the couch, but still looking around as though she expected Jack to pop out from behind the TV or something.

“He went home last night?” Eric said. “Around midnight.”

“Huh,” Lardo said, nodding to herself before patting Eric’s knee and standing back up. “You shoulda told me. That means I basically put on pants for nothing this morning. Did you at least make coffee?”

Eric snorted, but waved towards the kitchen where half a pot was still waiting. 

He turned back to his phone.

 

> **[ FROM: Jack ]**
> 
>  Good morning, how are you feeling?
> 
>  
> 
> **[ FROM: Eric ]**
> 
>  Just fine. :) Still up for brunch?
> 
>  
> 
> **[ FROM: Jack ]**
> 
>  Of course. What time do you want me to pick you up?
> 
>  
> 
> **[ FROM: Eric ]**
> 
>  I’m ready whenever! :)

 

“God, you should see your face right now,” Lardo said before tucking herself into Eric’s side and reading the texts over his shoulder. He tilted his head to the side to rest it on hers and sat his phone down next to him on the couch.

“I really like him,” he confessed in a whisper. 

“I know, Bits,” Lardo said. 

“Like really,  _ really _ like,” Eric said, shaking his head at himself. He felt suddenly sick to his stomach at the thought of how far Jack Zimmermann had managed to crawl under his skin without him noticing it. He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing. He felt Lardo shift next to him and a moment later she took his hand and threaded their fingers together.

“Bro, he likes you too,” she said. “And not to speak for him or anything, but I would bet he even really,  _ really _ likes you.”

She poked him with her spare hand and he laughed, the knot in his stomach uncoiling.

“Yeah, I think he does,” Eric agreed and then threw his head back. “Oh my God, I can’t believe this is happening.”

“It’s about time,” Lardo said, grumbling a bit before grabbing her coffee from the table and taking a long gulp. “Thought we were gonna have to lock you two in a closet or something.”

Eric blushed deeply and stood up from the couch, rolling his shoulders out. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror in the hallway and drifted a little closer so he could fix his mussed hair. Lardo flicked on the TV, leaving him to preen in peace.

Jack arrived a little after ten, knocking just once on the door. Eric sprang up from his nervous perch on the couch to answer the door. Jack stood on the other side of the door, looking unfairly attractive in the same dark jeans he’d worn to the Aces game and a Samwell t-shirt.

“Hi, Jack,” Eric said, hovering the doorway. 

“Hey, Bittle,” Jack said so warmly that Eric’s nerves melted almost instantly.

“Oh, are we back to just Bittle now?” Eric teased. 

Jack’s smile was lopsided and adorable, but Eric only got a second to admire it before Jack stepped forward and kissed him, taking him completely by surprise. Eric fell into the kiss easily though, his arms wrapping around Jack’s back and pulling him closer. Jack deepened the kiss, his hand gently tipping Eric’s face back to a more favorable angle. Eric pushed himself even closer, soaking in the warmth of Jack even as the cold air from outside rushed in around them. When he finally pulled back to catch his breath, Jack peppered a kiss on the side of his mouth before letting go of his waist to catch Eric’s hand in his. 

“Well, fuck me sideways if that isn’t the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” Shitty said loudly from somewhere behind Jack. 

Jack’s fingers tightened around Eric’s and Eric pulled him inside so Shitty could shoulder his way inside, several bags bursting with books dangling from his arms. Shitty dropped them immediately in the hallway before kicking the door shut and throwing his arms around Eric and Jack in an impromptu group hug.

“Come here, you fuckers,” Shitty said as Eric tried to squirm away. “I’m so happy you got your shit together.”

“Shitty,” Eric complained, finally ducking out from under his arm. Shitty still had one arm slung around Jack and was grinning wolfishly at Eric.

“Bits, c’mon,” Shitty said. “I’m allowed to celebrate this, aren’t I?”

Jack laughed softly before finally disentangling himself from Shitty. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, obviously a little uncomfortable, but he gave Eric a small smile of reassurance when Eric caught his eye.

“We were just on our way out,” Eric said pointedly.

“Seemed like you were more on your way  _ in _ to me,” Shitty said, narrowing his eyes in playful accusation as he stroked his mustache in faux thoughtfulness.

“We’re going to brunch,” Eric said. His hand found Jack’s arm and steered him towards the door. “See you later.”

“Bye, Bits!” Lardo called from the living room. “Don’t forget to use protection.”

“Oh my God,” Eric groaned as he pushed a laughing Jack out the door. Jack’s hand found his almost as soon as Eric slammed the door shut behind him. Eric gave him a look, but Jack’s amusement was still plain on his face.

“It’s fine, Bittle,” Jack said. “I really didn’t expect anything less from them.”

“Still,” Eric huffed. 

Jack let go of his hand and put his arm around Eric’s shoulders instead as they walked out onto the sidewalk together. Eric had meant to grab a coat to put over his sweater before leaving, but he didn’t want to go back inside for it, so he tucked himself closer than strictly necessary as they walked down the block to where Jack had parked. 

Jack let go of Eric to reach around and open the passenger side door for him, but Eric grabbed a hold of his shirt before he could start walking to the other side of the car. He reached up and kissed Jack, meaning for it to be quick and sweet, but getting lost for a moment in the way that Jack smiled into the kiss and opened his mouth so invitingly. Eric pulled back, chewing on his own lip as he looked up at Jack, flushed and happy.

“I’m really tired of getting interrupted while we’re doing that,” Eric sighed. 

Jack ran a thumb along Eric’s cheekbone before kissing his forehead and pulling him into a hug.

“Yeah, me too,” Jack said, his voice muffled by Eric’s hair. “I’ve got an idea. Let’s get you warmed up in the truck and I’ll run it by you, ok?”

 

\-- 

 

“What about peanut butter chips?” Eric said, holding up a bag of them for Jack’s inspection. Jack, leaning over the bar of the shopping cart, gave him a doubtful look.

“I thought we were being healthy today?” Jack asked.  

Eric frowned at him before tossing the peanut butter chips into the cart.

“We can add berries to the pancake batter,” he said with a shrug.

Jack snorted, but didn’t argue as he pushed the cart behind Eric, letting him put more ingredients into the cart with nothing more than an amused smile. When they finally mosied their way over to the produce section, Jack disappeared for a few minutes while Eric hemmed and hawed over which berries to get. He came back with a bunch of asparagus and a tray of fresh chicken breasts that he put gingerly into the cart. 

Eric looked at it in question and Jack shrugged.

“Thought I would grab stuff for dinner so we didn’t have to go out again,” he said.  

Eric, at a loss for words, turned back to the berries to hide his obvious blush and took a moment to grab a crate of blueberries before turning back to Jack. 

“So, I’m staying for dinner too, huh?” Eric asked as casually as he could. 

“Oh,” Jack said, looking up with a frown and puckered forehead. “You don’t have to. I just thought we could...spend the whole day together?”

Eric was fairly certain that Jack Zimmermann was going to be the death of him. 

“Jack,” Eric said, doing nothing to hide his blush now as he flailed for the right things to say.  “Of course I’d like to spend the whole day with you.”

“Good,” Jack said, visibly relaxing. Eric’s hand twitched with the desire to grab Jack’s, but he stopped himself. Instead he just smiled and shook his head before drifting down the aisle and grabbing a few bananas. When he turned back to the cart, Jack was watching him with a hard-to-read expression. He lifted an eyebrow as Eric put the bananas in the  cart. “Are we making brunch for the entire team? I thought it was just the two of us?” Jack teased.

“Hush,” Eric said, slapping his arm. “We should go before I get any ideas about pies from those apples over yonder though.”

Jack laughed and pushed the cart towards the registers. Eric followed behind, trying to not obviously admire the view, but probably failing. He suddenly felt a little giddy about the fact that there was a very real possibility that he could do more than admire that particular view when they got to Jack’s apartment in a little while. 

Jack parked their cart in one of the lines for the two open registers and looked back to Eric.

“What?” he asked,  obviously reading Eric’s amusement on his face.

“Nothing,” Eric said, trying for innocent. Jack raised both eyebrows and Eric shrugged, biting his lip to tamp down on the laugh that bubbled in his throat. Jack knocked his shoulder against Eric’s and Eric knocked him back before stepping back to look at the soda fridge.

A moment later, Eric felt a small thrill when Jack’s hand brushed his and then a full-on electric shock when Jack twined their fingers together and squeezed. He couldn’t help but glance sideways at Jack, but Jack was completely casual, inspecting the magazine rack beside them. Eric felt something warm curl inside of him because it was one thing to hold his hand on a quiet residential street and another entirely to do it in a busy grocery store. He squeezed Jack’s hand back.

Jack turned to look at him, casual as can be, and smiled before scooting their cart in line as someone finished their transaction. He didn’t let go of Eric’s hand, letting their joined hands swing in the air behind him. Eric inched closer to him and licked his lips as he tried to get control of the sudden, irrational burn of tears in his eyes. 

“Hey Jack?” he asked softly, thankful his voice wasn’t nearly as tremulous as he felt. 

“Hmm?” Jack tore his eyes from the magazines and turned around to smile at Eric. Eric felt his heart in his throat as he looked at Jack and he squeezed his hand tightly.

“I’m glad we’re doing this,” Eric said finally after he’d found his voice again.

Jack expression shifted into something much softer and he tugged Eric closer, letting go of his hand to run his own up Eric’s back and press him into his side. Eric wrapped his arms around Jack’s middle and hugged him.

“Me too, Bits,” Jack said. 

“I can help next in line on aisle nine!” a perky teenager yelled out from somewhere behind the magazine rack, startling Eric away from Jack. Jack laughed and told her thanks before steering the cart out of their line and over to the next aisle. He shared a knowing look with Eric as he did it and Eric knew they were both hoping it was the last interruption they’d have to deal with that day.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that the rating has been upgraded to Mature...if you want to skip over the particular scene, please see end notes!
> 
> Special thanks to Rachel who is my first reader and sounding board for this story even when she's on vacation! 
> 
> Enjoy this extra-long chapter and thanks for still reading!!!

“What do you mean you haven’t yet?” Lardo asked. She almost spit her coffee out in her incredulity as they sat in a tucked-away booth at a coffeeshop around the corner from their apartment. She pushed aside her cup with wide eyes, uncharacteristically animated.  “You two have have been spending basically every waking moment together for like three weeks.”

Eric groaned. He pushed his own coffee aside and leaned forward on his elbows, rocking forward in his chair. Lardo kicked him under the table when he took too long to answer.

“It’s my fault,” he admitted, his shoulders slumping as he sat back. “I chickened out that first night at his apartment and now I think he thinks that I want to take it slow or whatever, but really I just panicked for a second because it’s been so long since I even had a chance of getting laid and I just...agh!”

Lardo stared at him, still wide-eyed and then, she let out a short bark of laughter. Eric groaned and buried his head in his arms on the table. Lardo had been there for his sluttiest years at college, so he knew that she knew exactly how ridiculous he was being, but it didn’t actually help. 

“Bro,” Lardo said. “You gotta tell him.”

“How?” Eric whined, throwing his arms out in feigned helplessness. He felt dramatic and a little prickly about the whole thing. He hadn’t even really wanted to tell Lardo, but it had slipped out by accident. “It’s too late. I’m committed to the prudish Southern belle narrative now. If I tell him now, it’ll be even more embarrassing.”

“So, you’re just not gonna have sex with your hot boyfriend who you’ve wanted to bone since forever because it’s too embarrassing to say you want to?” Lardo asked. 

“I have not wanted to bone him since  _ forever _ ,” Eric grumbled. He crossed his arms across his chest and Lardo quirked a single eyebrow at him, smirking. Eric huffed in disagreement and looked away. 

“I can’t just…” he struggled for words. “Like, march up to him and say ‘Please fuck me, Jack, thank you so much!’” Eric said. He waved his hand so emphatically that he almost knocked his cup of coffee off the table. He caught it just in time, setting it straight on the counter. 

Lardo snorted in laughter and took a long sip of her own coffee.

“Bits,” she said finally. “You’re dating him. He is super into you. You can absolutely walk up to him and say that.”

Eric blushed deeply and shrank back into his seat with a sigh. He didn’t know how to explain that with Jack, everything just felt different.  _ Bigger _ . He looked around the coffee shop they were in, but no one was paying them any mind. It was much bigger and more spread out than Annie’s, but it was comfortable and quiet and just around the corner from their apartment. He let his fingers run along the grain of wood on the table, tracing the curve carefully.

“What if he doesn’t want to, though?” Eric asked quietly, his head bowed towards the table so he couldn’t see Lardo’s expression. 

Lardo reached across the table and grabbed both of his hands, grasping them firmly until he was forced to look up at her. Her hair was mostly pulled into a ponytail, but a few of the shorter bits stuck out wildly around her face, giving more weight to the serious lines of her face.

“Bitty, literally just talk to him,” Lardo said as she gripped his hands tightly. “I’m begging you. Everything will be better after you do.”

Eric held her eyes for a long moment, chewing on his lip nervously. It really was ridiculous how anxiety-inducing the thought of talking bluntly about sex with Jack was. Especially considering the fact that he and Jack had been talking almost non-stop about everything else under the sun for weeks now. On top of that, Jack was so endearingly honest about everything when asked, it was hard to imagine he would have any trouble at all talking about sex, which…was maybe part of the problem. Sexual experience was one thing Eric had carefully steered their conversations away from, so he wasn’t sure exactly how experienced Jack was, but he had a good feeling it was considerably more experienced than Eric’s few stumbling encounters in college. 

“Bitty?” Lardo asked, gently prodding him out of his quickly spiraling thoughts. He focused back on her to see a small frown on her face and he shook his head.

“Yeah,” Eric sighed. “Okay. Talk to him. Simple.”

He pulled back and started shoving his computer into his backpack so he could break eye contact with her. He could feel her still watching him for a moment, but she started putting her sketchbook and pencils away as well, swinging her bag over her shoulder and standing. Eric stood up as well and cracked his back before nodding towards the far door.

“You know,” he said as they walked towards the exit. “I think I need to bake about three pies before I can start thinking about how to bring it up to him without dying of embarrassment.”

“I am so here for you, bro,” Lardo said. “I would be honored to help you stress bake.”

“I didn’t say you were getting any,” Eric said. 

Lardo flicked his arm with her fingers and he rubbed his arm in pretend hurt. She laughed and swatted him again.

“What? Are they gonna be like special sex pies or something?” Lardo asked, waggling her eyebrows at him as they shuffled out of the coffee shop together.

An older lady sitting near the exit’s head shot up and she gave them a dark look. Eric smiled apologetically back at her before pushing the door open and stepping outside with Lardo into the late afternoon air. 

“I’m not sure there is such a thing as a special sex pie,” Eric said as soon as the door had closed behind them.

Lardo shrugged.

“You never know,” she said. “I bet you could come up with something.”

Eric wrinkled his nose. 

“Sounds gross,” he said.

“Sounds ‘swawesome,” Lardo corrected.

 

 

\--

 

> **[ Episode 6.18 - Date Night Ideas with special guest William Poindexter! ]**
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> [ _ Hey y’all! Hope the new year is treating you alright. I know mine has been great so far. To celebrate the new year, I thought today I’d have an old friend on the show to help me out with something a little out of the ordinary. Lobster tails! Now, this probably won’t shock you but before I moved up here to go to Samwell, the only lobster I’d ever had was from a very classy establishment that goes by the name of Red Lobster. ] _
> 
>  
> 
> [Someone snorts off-camera and Eric turns and rolls his eyes, gesturing for them to join him on camera. Dex slides into frame, leaning next to Eric at the counter. He waves awkwardly to the camera. ]
> 
>  
> 
> _ [ I have Massachusetts native and my former teammate William Poindexter here to help demonstrate proper lobster tail preparation and grilling technique. Yum! Now this is a great date idea and it’s not very complicated either, once you know how to do it. Isn’t that right, Dex?… ] _

 

—

 

The sex pie had been a joke, but a week later, still sexless and beyond frustrated with himself for not just spitting it out, Eric was about ready to seriously consider the merits of cutting a pie crust into some crude message for Jack. 

He really did mean to bring it up. It was just that every time that the moment felt right, the words got stuck in his throat and Jack somehow made it worse by being endlessly understanding. 

Half of the problem was that Eric was on and off the road constantly, running practices for a lot of his time on campus and dead tired the rest it. The team was in the home stretch of a dismal season and every game was grueling. The boys hadn’t given up their hopes of making the playoffs, but it seemed less likely every day. It wasn’t exactly a romantic mood to be in.

The only other thing stopping him was….well. Maybe taking it slowly wasn’t a terrible idea if he couldn’t even think about talking to Jack directly about sex yet without blushing from tip to toe. 

The first time Eric had pulled away had been mostly a knee-jerk reaction - Jack had had him pressed against the counter in his huge, beautiful kitchen and when his hands had slipped under Eric’s shirt and stroked the sensitive skin right above Eric’s pants, Eric had flinched and taken an involuntary, loud breath at the lightning strike of sensation. Before he could explain himself, Jack had drawn back immediately and apologized so sweetly that Eric had found himself speechless. He couldn’t find the words to just say that it had been a long, long time since he’d so much as fooled around with someone and he’d never felt so intensely about anyone as he felt about Jack, so instead he just swallowed and stood there like a deer in headlights while Jack put physical space between them.

Since that night, Jack had been so conscientious and sweet that Eric was practically bursting with frustration over it. There was something distinctly uncomfortable about trying to come up with a way to tell Jack that all Eric wanted to do was take off his pants, especially when Jack seemed perfectly content to cuddle with Eric on the couch or watch him bake from across the kitchen. Eric was distantly worried that if they didn’t get a move on, they would somehow end up as just friends instead of boyfriends.

Lardo’s advice to just talk to him had simmered in the back of Eric’s brain constantly since he’d finally cracked and admitted it to her, but he had stubbornly not followed it, believing in his own more subtle methods perhaps too much. His methods hadn’t even gotten him past second base with Jack despite his best efforts to give as many signals as possible that he was ready to take things further than hot and heavy make-outs sessions that always ended with Jack pulling away too quickly and saying goodnight not long after. 

One Thursday in early February, Eric and the rest of the team got back several hours later than planned from a roadie. Eric had had plans to meet Jack when he’d gotten home, but two hours into a miserable snarl of traffic on the other side of Boston, he’d texted to cancel their dinner plans and asked Murray for a ride home. He was surprised then when Jack was waiting for him in the parking lot of Faber as he disembarked the bus. Jack didn’t come inside this time, but once Eric had wrapped up with the boys, he found Jack leaning against his truck in the cold. 

Eric couldn’t walk across the parking lot fast enough to kiss him. Jack’s lips were warm despite the chill in the air and Eric wrapped his arms around Jack thankfully.

“You didn’t have to wait,” Eric said, voice muffled by the thick flannel of Jack’s coat. 

“Wanted to see you,” Jack said, his breath tickling at the nape of Eric’s neck. 

“It was a two day roadie,” Eric teased, pulling away so he could throw his bag in the bed of Jack’s trunk and walk quickly around to get inside where the cabin was still warm. 

Jack grinned at him from across the gear shift and leaned over to kiss him again, holding him there until he got his fill. 

“I missed you,” Jack said.

Eric rolled his eyes, but it was just for show. He couldn’t stop the smile from creeping onto his face and he was glad that it was probably too dark for anyone outside the truck to see much of them.  

“You’re ridiculous,” Eric said, not meaning a word of it as he shook his head. Jack threaded their fingers together across the gearshift and squeezed before letting Eric’s hand go and starting the truck.

“What are you hungry for?” Jack asked quietly as Eric fiddled with the radio. Jack always had it tuned to some godawful country station that reminded Eric too much of his father to listen to for very long. He hummed in thought as he found a good station and sat back in his seat.

“Something really unhealthy,” Eric said, rubbing his stomach.

Jack’s mouth quirked, but he didn’t look away from the road. 

“You always say that,” Jack said.

“And I always mean it,” Eric said with a smile. “But really, anything would be great. I haven’t eaten anything but Cheetos since noon.”

Jack chuckled and Eric looked over at him with a smile. 

“Don’t worry, Mr. Zimmermann,” he said playfully. “They were confiscated Cheetos. I made sure the boys only ate Zimmermann-approved snacks like bananas and beef jerky.”

“Hopefully not together,” Jack said in a serious tone. 

Eric slapped his arm lightly.

“Oh, definitely together,” Eric said. “They made beef-banana sandwiches and added some protein powder for an extra kick.”

“Hmm, we’ll have to have that for dinner sometime,” Jack said, still faking seriousness. Eric’s stomach swooped at the casual  _ we _ for no particular reason and he looked out his window to hide his pleased blush. He looked out at the passing street lights and sighed, the day suddenly catching up with him all at once. It was barely nine, but he felt as though it were much later. 

“Hey Jack?” he asked. 

Jack hummed in response, throwing a glance over to him before looking back to the road. 

“Do you have anything at your apartment that I can eat?” Eric asked, still looking out the window, watching Jack’s  doppelgänger  in the dark glass. He saw Jack look over to him, but the expression in the glass was blurry. It was a delicate request - Eric had never stayed the night at Jack’s before - and Eric hoped that Jack saw the question for what it was. He turned to see the real Jack, his mouth loose and head tilted to the side in consideration.  

Just when Eric was about to take back the question, Jack said, “I think I have some stuff we can throw together, if you don’t mind healthy.”

“I’ll survive it,” Eric sighed. 

A smile crept back onto Jack’s face and he surprised Eric by grabbing his hand across the gearshift again and holding it this time. 

“I think I have some bacon too,” Jack amended.

“Oh, thank God,” Eric said and squeezed Jack’s hand. Jack didn’t let go until he pulled into the parking garage of his apartment. They got out of the truck together and Jack grabbed Eric’s bag before Eric could say anything about it. Eric smiled thankfully at him and as soon as the doors of the elevator closed behind them, he leaned his head on Jack’s shoulder with a tired sigh. Jack twisted just enough to plant a kiss on Eric’s head. 

“I missed you, too,” Eric said. 

“I know,” Jack murmured. “You texted me every five minutes for two days straight.”

“Chirp, chirp, Mr. Zimmermann,” Eric said, but was undermined by his own yawn. 

The elevator dinged open on Jack’s floor and a gentle hand at the small of his back pushed Eric forward into the hall. Eric dragged a hand down his face as he put one foot in front of the other down the hallway. He reached back and grabbed the keys from Jack’s hand to unlock the door and hold it open for Jack. Jack pecked him on the cheek on the way in and Eric swatted half-heartedly at him.

Jack dropped Eric’s bag on the couch and headed straight to the kitchen with Eric trailing behind him. He had the fridge open and stepped aside as Eric sidled up next to him. Eric grabbed the closest carton of yogurt and opened it, walking away for moment to grab a spoon from the drawer. Jack laughed and grabbed the eggs and a few different containers from the fridge, laying them out on the counter.

“Omelet?” he asked. 

Eric shrugged, spoon in mouth already. He would eat almost anything that Jack put in front of him at this point. Jack seemed to get his drift and started cracking eggs after he’d set a skillet to work on a few strips of bacon. Eric held up the package of turkey bacon accusingly after Jack took a few strips out and Jack grinned at him, shrugging innocently. 

“What did you have for dinner?” Eric asked finally as he was finishing off his yogurt and Jack was just pulling the bacon off and pouring his egg mixture into the already hot skillet. 

“Oh, uh, I went to Annie’s,” Jack said. “I had some grading that needed to get done anyways, so I just hung out for a few hours there while you guys were stuck.”

“So, a chopped salad with extra grilled chicken and the dressing on the side, then?” Eric teased. He bumped his hip against Jack’s as he settled against the counter to watch Jack expertly flip the omelet over without any fuss at all. Eric would be lying if he ever said that he didn’t find Jack’s competence in the kitchen a turn-on. The boy needed a lot of work in the baking department, but he was a great cook. Eric grabbed a piece of still-hot bacon and munched on it in contentment. 

“It’s a good salad,” Jack said, with only a small lift of his mouth. “Lots of protein, no big fuss over too many ingredients.” 

“You know, their paninis are amazing,” Eric said, already on to his second piece of bacon. “You should try one sometime.”

“Maybe I’ll just steal a bite of yours next time, eh?” Jack said, elbowing him lightly as he grabbed the empty plate next to Eric and slid the omelet onto it and the one remaining piece of bacon before presenting it solemnly to Eric. 

“I don’t know why you think I would share,” Eric sniffed in mock outrage. Jack retracted the plate from offer and held it above his head.

“Oh really?” he asked, looking down at Eric with a grin. “You wouldn’t?”

Eric pouted at him, but couldn’t keep his face straight for long because his stomach growled loudly, sending them both into fits of laughter. Jack lowered the plate and Eric snatched it from him while he could. Jack grabbed a fork for him and set it on the plate.

“I guess I could be convinced to share a bite or two next time we’re there,” Eric conceded as he took a bite of the omelet. It was ridiculously good after such a long day, even if it wasn’t exactly what Eric would have made for himself. He told Jack so and Jack smiled, obviously pleased.

“Why don’t you take it to the couch and pick something to watch?” Jack suggested. “I think the Sharks game is still on if you want to catch the end.”

“Chowder was watching the box score on the bus,” Eric yawned and nodded before heading out to the living room. He could still see Jack at the sink, washing the skillet and a few dishes, over the open breakfast bar.

He flicked on the TV, already tuned to the game, and settled in to eat the rest of his makeshift dinner. He was done by the time Jack joined him again and sinking back into the couch in a drowsy state as he watched the last few minutes of the game wind down. The Sharks were up by two and just playing keep-away as the clock wore itself out. Eric could hardly keep his eyes open to watch them win.

“You gonna make it, bud?” Jack said, tousling Eric’s hair lightly as he sat down next to him on the couch. Eric curled into him, resting his head on Jack’s shoulder and sighing. 

“I swear I slept on the bus,” Eric said, fighting off another yawn as he slid into an even more comfortable position against Jack. Jack pulled his arm free and put it around Eric’s shoulder, holding him closer. Eric nuzzled his face into Jack’s neck and breathed in the now familiar aftershave that was fading but still there. 

“It’s okay,” Jack said softly. His fingers were running through Eric’s hair slowly, scratching at his scalp occasionally and it dragged Eric even further towards drowsiness. “Do you want me to take you home?”

Eric’s heart dropped into his stomach at the suggestion, but he recognized for what it was: Jack was giving him an escape option.

“I wanted…” Eric sighed, not knowing how to continue even though he had practiced a hundred times before. He swallowed and looked down to where his own fingers were playing with hem of Jack’s shirt. “Is it okay if I stay here with you tonight?”  

It wasn’t really what he’d meant to ask, but Jack paused for a split second before continuing to play with Eric’s hair. Eric shifted so he could look up at Jack to find that he was looking back. Eric sat up a little further and Jack’s hand fell to his neck, his thumb gently rubbing against the sensitive skin there. Eric closed his eyes at the touch.

“If that’s what you want, Bits,” Jack said finally. 

Eric nodded, eyes still closed, and Jack kissed him softly. 

“I…” Eric said, clearing his throat as he looked at Jack. Jack looked back him steadily, waiting. Eric took a deep breath and plunged forward. “Tomorrow, I mean, can we…talk about…um…”

Eric blew out a frustrated breath and looked away. He licked his lips, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, trying to screw his courage up. He hated how the words just got mangled somewhere from his brain to his mouth when it came to this stuff. Jack’s gentle, light touch on the back of his neck was the only thing keeping Eric from bolting out of the room in embarrassment. 

“Bits,” Jack said, quiet and steady beside him. 

Eric opened his eyes to meet Jack’s gaze again and felt something inside of him let go. He sighed and rolled his eyes at himself, blinking away the sudden tears quickly.

“I’m sorry,” he said, swiping furiously as his face. “I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to even say it. Because I want to. I mean, I want  _ you _ . I want this.”

Jack didn’t say anything for a long minute, but he didn’t pull away either. Eric couldn’t quite read his expression, both thoughtful and shuttered.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

“No, it’s not that,” Eric said hurriedly. He sat up straight again, moving further into Jack’s space. “I promise it’s not like that. I just…have like, this mental block about saying it, but…” Eric flailed a little, waving his hand in the air. “I mean, I like sex. I want to have sex. I just hate talking about it because...you know, it’s just, not something I really grew up talking about, I guess, and I didn’t mean to give you the impression I wasn’t interested or something like that that, because I  _ am _ \--”

Jack caught his still waving hand and kissed it. Eric exhaled loudly.

“Sorry, that was a lot,” he said. 

“It’s fine, Bits,” Jack said. “You can tell me all about it tomorrow. Or the day after that. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Tomorrow,” Eric promised. He sagged against the couch, fully exhausted. Jack leaned his head back against the couch as well and took Eric in. 

“You ready for bed?” he asked after a moment.

Eric yawned in response.

“Is that lame?” Eric asked, only half-joking.

“Super lame,” Jack said in return. He stood up from the couch and held out both hands to pull Eric up with him. Eric took them reluctantly, stretching like a cat as he stood. He didn’t miss Jack’s eyes tracking his movements and felt a small curl of satisfaction in his stomach.

“Do you want your bag?” Jack asked. Eric nodded and turned back to grab it, but Jack was quicker on his feet, throwing it over his shoulder and heading to his bedroom before Eric could even protest. Eric trailed behind him, fighting off yawns for real this time. 

Jack had put the overnight bag in a chair tucked into the corner of the room and Eric dug through it for his sleep clothes, feeling a moment of doubt as he pulled out the soft red athletic shorts he usually slept in. They were short and getting too tight for him, but still comfortable enough to wear in private. He looked down at them in doubt before shaking himself and pulling them out. He slipped into Jack’s bathroom to change and when he came out, Jack was sitting on the bed with his own sleep clothes folded neatly in his lap. He kissed Eric on his way to the bathroom, thankfully not seeming to notice the shorts. Eric crawled into Jack’s overlarge bed and sprawled out on the cool sheets before pulling the duvet up and over his shoulders. He felt as though he could fall asleep right then and there.

It felt like only seconds later that Jack was gently prodding at his side. Eric cracked an eye open at him and to his surprise, the room had gone dark sometime when he hadn’t noticed. It took him a moment to focus on Jack’s dark shape. 

“Bits,” Jack whispered. “You’re going to have move over if you want us both to fit.”

Eric slithered away from the center of the bed, taking his warm pillow with him. He felt the bed dip with Jack’s weight. 

Eric’s eyes fluttered open and he took in the sight of Jack so close and soft as he tucked himself in next to Eric. He was struck with the overwhelming realization that he loved Jack. He felt warm all over with the thought. Jack turned on his side to face Eric and smiled. Eric smiled sleepily back, blinking back exhaustion as he scooted closer to Jack.

“You’re a very good man, Jack Zimmermann,” he said softly before kissing Jack on the edge of his mouth. Jack caught his lips by turning his head to the side and then pulled back to lay back on his own pillow. His hand rested on Eric’s hip and if Eric had been more awake, he would have been very interested in getting Jack’s hand to move farther south, but as it was, he could barely keep his eyes open. 

“Get some sleep, Bits,” Jack said. Eric was only too glad to do so, warm and safe next to Jack. 

 

\--

 

Eric woke up too hot. It took him several bleary moments to realize why.

Jack was laying awake next to Eric, reading something on his phone with a creased brow, and radiating heat even though he’d clearly kicked the blankets from his side of the bed onto Eric’s at some point. Eric sat up and pulled his shirt off, tugging it violently over his head, before burrowing back into Jack’s side. Jack huffed a laugh and sank down lower into the bed, putting his phone aside. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” Jack said, ruffling Eric’s hair lightly.

Eric mumbled a non-response and wrapped his arms around Jack’s torso. Jack didn’t seem wont to argue and threaded his fingers through Eric’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp in soothing circles that threatened to send Eric right back to sleep.

“What time is it?” Eric finally asked, voice muffled by a face full of Jack’s t-shirt.

“A little after nine,” Jack answered.

Eric groaned.

“Do you have plans for today?” Jack asked.

Eric settled his chin on Jack’s chest so he could look up at him. He scrunched his forehead in thought, but besides a vague thought that he might go to the grocery store later, he didn’t think he did. At least not anything that was as promising as staying in bed with Jack. 

“Besides sleeping?” Eric asked. “No.”

Jack’s fingers tugged playfully at his hair and Eric smiled.

“C’mere,” Jack said and pulled him closer. Eric stopped just short of kissing him and made a face.

“Morning breath,” he said.

Jack pecked him on the lips anyway, laughing when Eric twisted away and out of bed. Eric reached back and shoved his shoulder, but Jack just used the opportunity to tackle him back into the bed and kiss him more soundly. Eric laughed into kiss, fighting the losing battle to keep his mouth closed. 

“Gross,” he pronounced when Jack finally let him go. “I should have known you’d be a disgusting morning person.” He sat up again and popped his neck as he stretched his legs over the side of the bed. When he looked back, Jack was laying against the pillows invitingly, smiling softly back. Eric bit his lip and then stood abruptly, making his way to the bathroom. 

He grabbed the tube of toothpaste and put a small dollop of his finger before using it to scrub at his teeth. He ran the tap to get a small handful of water and swished it around his mouth. Jack appeared in the doorway as he doing it and wrapped his arms around Eric’s waist, resting his head on top of Eric’s and smiling at him in the mirror. 

“How are you this morning?” Jack asked after Eric spit his toothpaste in the sink and rinsed the basin. Eric relaxed back in Jack’s arms and slid his hands along Jack’s arms to pull them even tighter.

“Good,” Eric said, tilting his head up and back to land a kiss on Jack’s jaw. “Thank you for coming to get me last night.”

Jack leaned down and nuzzled against Eric’s neck. Eric could feel Jack’s smile pressed into his skin there and sighed.

“You’re in a good mood this morning,” Eric murmured.

Jack’s lips slid up the side of his face to press firmly on his cheek. 

“It’s nice to wake up next to you,” Jack said. “That’s all.”

Eric turned around in his arms and let his hands slide up Jack’s arms.

“Charmer,” he said, without any bite. 

Jack hummed in response and then disentangled himself slowly so he could brush his own teeth. Eric watched him for a moment and then wandered back into the bedroom to look for something suitable to wear for the day. Most of the clothes he’d brought on the road badly needed a wash. He picked up his discarded t-shirt from the floor and put it away before pulling out his jeans and a only semi-wrinkled flannel from his bag. He shook the shirt out a few times before pulling it on. 

Jack came back out of the bathroom and went straight to his end table. 

“I plugged your phone in this morning, so I don’t think it’s got a full battery yet,” he said, obviously apologetic. “Sorry, you left it out on the coffee table last night.”

“Oh, thank you,” Eric said, sitting down on the bed so as not to unplug it from the wall. “I can’t believe I forgot it. That must be a first.”

He frowned at the number of notifications on his phone, which was higher than normal including several from the Frogs. He opened the first thread and then softly cursed.

“Fuck,” he said as he read the thread.

“What’s wrong?” Jack asked, peeking out from the closet, still only half-dressed. Eric took in the sight of him shirtless with a few blinks, already feeling sorry for himself as he looked back down at his phone. His brain was rapidly cycling through possible ways to get out of it, but there was nothing that would really work. He sighed. 

“I forgot about Chowder,” he said, throwing himself backwards on the bed. “I promised him we could go into town and look at rings today. He’s proposing to his girlfriend on Valentine’s Day and he still hasn’t found one.  _ Damn it _ .”

“You don’t…want to go?” Jack asked haltingly. Eric looked over to him and he had managed to pull on a shirt in the meantime, much to Eric’s disappointment. 

“I do,” Eric groaned. “I absolutely want to go, but I was also really looking forward to just spending the day with you without any plans.”

Jack’s expression cleared and he sat down next to Eric on the bed. 

“Yeah,” Jack said and Eric could hear the disappointment in his voice. “That did sound nice.” 

Eric pulled himself up and leaned against Jack. Jack put an arm around him and swayed them a bit.

“When do you need to go?” Jack asked.

Eric felt a little like pouting now.

“Less than an hour if I want to catch the bus,” he said. “Sorry for the change of plans.”

“It’s okay, Bits,” Jack said. “I don’t mind sharing you with your friends.”

“No lectures on how I shouldn’t be friends with the guys I coach?” Eric said in mock surprise. Jack tousled Eric’s hair playfully. 

“I’ve come around to the fact that you were friends with them before you were their coach and that makes things different,” Jack said, surprising Eric who was expecting a chirp in response instead. He smiled at Jack and pressed his lips together.

“Good,” he said. “I’m glad. It’s definitely not the same anymore, but I do still think of them as friends.”

“I know,” Jack said. “Why don’t you finish getting dressed? I can drive you there and we can grab a quick breakfast on the way instead.”

Eric sighed and nodded. He turned to kiss Jack’s cheek. 

“Sorry,” he apologized again, then added a little bashfully, “I do still want to...you know. Later?”

Jack laughed a little, his shoulder shaking as Eric leaned on him. 

“Stop,” Eric said, swatting at his chest. “I just didn’t want you thinking I forgot or changed my mind or something.”

“Okay,” Jack said. He smiled indulgently at Eric. “Why don’t we worry about breakfast first?”

  
  


\--

  
  


“Christopher Chow, you will be proposing to that nice girl with a ring, not a crystal shaped like a marine animal.”

Eric held out his hand for the crystal in question and Chowder reluctantly handed it over so that Eric could replace it carefully on the shelf. One of the employees from behind the counter smiled tightly at him, but Eric could tell they were being watched. It was probably inevitable when you get three hockey players in a jewelry store loudly cooing over crystals. It was a blessing that Dex had had to go to a morning lab, so that they didn’t have him bickering with Nursey on top of it all. 

He looked around for Nursey to see that he had wandered over to the watches section and was examining a pocket watch with a small frown. Eric cleared his throat loudly and Nursey looked over with raised eyebrows. Eric nodded to him to come over and then herded Chowder and Nursey towards the still-watching employee.

“Good morning, sir,” Eric said brightly as they reached the counter. “My friend here is looking for an engagement ring.”

He pushed Chowder forward a bit and Chowder looked at him with wide eyes full of panic. The employee regarded them with suspicious eyes, but he smiled frostily at Chowder. 

“Good morning, Mr…?” the employee asked.

“Chow,” Chowder supplied quickly. “Christopher Chow.”

Nursey snorted beside Eric and Eric elbowed him sharply. The employee’s eyes flicked over to them briefly before returning to Chowder.

“Mr. Chow,” he said. “It’s a pleasure. My name is Ralph. Now, why don’t you tell me a bit about your price point and what you’re looking for in a ring and we’ll get to work.”

Chowder shot Eric a glance and Eric nodded encouragingly as Chowder dug around in his pockets for a folded piece of paper that they had worked out prices on before coming. Chowder handed it over to Ralph who unfolded it carefully. 

“Oh!” Chowder said, pulling out his phone. “I took pictures of all her jewelry and stuff. I had to sneak in while they were at a game, actually, so it’s not all of her jewelry, but most of it. And I know this one is her favorite. If that…uh, if that helps.”

Ralph gestured for the phone and Chowder handed it to him readily. He flipped through a couple of pictures with raised eyebrows but didn’t comment. Eric hoped Ralph could make heads or tails of Farmer’s taste, because after an hour of looking at the pictures himself, Eric couldn’t make much of a determination beyond that Farmer shopped at Forever 21 a lot and apparently really liked nautical themes. 

“You said this one was her favorite?” Ralph asked finally, after a few minutes of looking at the pictures. He titled the phone back to Chowder to show a picture of  a simple pendant necklace with a teardrop peridot. Farmer wore it almost every day, if Eric remembered correctly. Chowder confirmed a moment later and Ralph nodded, walking off. 

“So, Bitty,” Nursey asked, leaning against the glass counter. “How long until you and Jack are in here? A week? Two?”

Eric flushed.

“Lord,” he muttered. “Much longer than that. We’ve only been together for a month.”

“Uh huh,” Nursey said. He was smirking at Eric. “And you haven’t thought about china patterns once.”

“First of all,” Eric said, pointing a finger at Nursey. “I don’t need any Target china when I get married because I’ll be inheriting my MooMaw’s china which is authentic Spode Blue Italian. Second of all, Jack and I are not getting married, thinking about getting married or anything of that nature for a long time.”

Nursey held up his hands in defeat.

“Chill, Bitty,” he said. “I’m just saying - you two looked mad domestic when he dropped you off this morning and he was obviously waiting for you last night when we got in.”

Eric waved him off in a flurry of embarrassment just as Ralph came back with two trays of rings. 

“Oh, wow,” Chowder said in an air of reverence as he looked at all of the rings in front of him. 

Eric leaned over to look at the rings - most of them were simple diamonds with interesting cuts or vintage-inspired bands. They were all lovely. He patted Chowder’s shoulder in solidarity. He had a feeling this was going to take a long time. 

They went through another tray and a half before Chowder found one that they all three agreed was nice. Ralph seemed to have defrosted a little by the time Chowder settled on it and even offered his own opinion that it was a popular style with many women, which seemed to encourage Chowder a lot. 

“It’s a really nice choice, Chowder,” Eric said as Ralph boxed the ring for Chowder and rang him up. “Caitlin will love it.”

“Totally, C,” Nursey agreed. He had wandered off to the pocket watches again, but projected over his shoulder. Ralph only gave him a slightly disapproving look. Eric suspected it was because Ralph knew that they would soon be out of his hair completely or he would have told them all to keep their voices down.

Chowder took the proffered box from Ralph with the same reverence that he had had earlier when he’d first seen the ring trays and he carefully put it in his pocket. 

“That’s it? It’s mine?” he asked. 

“It’s all yours,” Ralph confirmed. He cracked his first genuine smile of the day as Chowder let out a small squeak in response. Eric braced a hand on Chowder’s shoulder and tried to suppress a laugh. 

“How’re you feeling?” Eric asked.

“Gonna vom?” Nursey asked, re-joining them.

Chowder didn’t respond immediately and Eric caught Nursey’s eye over his shoulder, which sent both of them into fits of laughter as they guided Chowder towards the door. Eric called out a quick thank you to Ralph and he waved from behind the counter, looking only mildly concerned as they finally exited the store. Chowder had one hand stuffed in his pocket as they walked towards the car they had borrowed from one of the boys on the team for the day. 

“Let’s get something to eat,” Eric said, rubbing some comforting circles on Chowder’s back as they climbed into the car together. It was littered with fast food wrappers and empty cups that Eric had to kick aside to get in the back seat next to Chowder.

“Bitty, man, sorry to break up your mother-henning,” Nursey said, sticking his head in through the open door and dangling the keys out to Eric. “But if C is going catatonic, the driving is all in your hands.”

“Oh, of course,” Eric said, grabbing the keys. “I forgot you Yankees don’t drive.”

Nursey snorted before walking around to the other side of the car. Eric pulled himself out and climbed back into the driver’s seat, having to adjust the seat far forward after Chowder had been sitting there. He adjusted the mirror to see Chowder in the back seat, still looking vaguely sick, and he twisted around.

“Are you actually going to be sick?” he asked gently. 

Nursey also twisted backwards to look at Chowder in the back seat. 

“No,” Chowder finally managed. 

“So, burgers sound good?” Nursey asked. Eric felt like elbowing him again, but the angle was too awkward in the car. Chowder nodded furiously, his head bobbing so quickly that his hair flopped up and down in time. 

“Okay,” Eric said. “I think there’s a Shakey’s around the corner.”

Chowder let out a loud gust of air in the back seat and Eric caught Nursey’s smile out of the corner of his eye as he started the car which made a small giggle burst from his lips and set Nursey laughing again. They were pulling up to the restaurant by the time they’d gotten themselves together again. Chowder seemed a great deal more relaxed as they walked inside, although he still had one hand in his pocket, gripping the ring box. 

“C, you tell Bitty how you’re proposing yet?” Nursey asked as they slid into a booth together. Chowder’s eyes lit up and he looked to Eric.

“No!” he said, launching into a complicated plan that involved a scavenger hunt across campus and intermission at their home game on Valentine’s Day.

“And you think she’ll be okay with it happening at a game?” Eric asked as Chowder finished detailing how he had convinced the ice crew to help him for the game in two weeks. 

“Oh! Yes!” Chowder said, his eyes still bright with excitement. “She’s been learning how to skate, you know, and she comes to all of the games she can.”

Eric nodded encouragingly, not quite convinced, but willing to play along nevertheless. It wasn’t like Farmer was going to say no; as far as Eric knew, she was just as silly in love with Chowder as he was with her. She would find an on-ice proposal in full goalie gear to be romantic, for all he knew. 

Their burgers arrived before he could say anything further and there were several minutes of content silence between the three of them as they tucked in. Eric snapped a picture of his sweet potato fries and burger, sending it off to Jack before even taking a bite with  _ REAL FOOD :P _ as a caption. Jack responded only a few minutes later with a simple  _ Ha. _

“So Bitty, when Jack and you get married --” Chowder said, breaking the comfortable silence between them as Eric was distracted typing out a response to Jack.

“If,” Eric interrupted with an incredulous squeak as he set aside his phone.

“Nah, bro, definitely when,” Nursey said, waving a fry in the air to indicate it was final. A fleck of ketchup flew across the table and landed on Eric’s shirt lapel. He sighed and wiped it off while Nursey mumbled an insincere apology through a full mouth.

“When you do,” Chowder continued. “Do you want him to propose or do you think you’ll do it?”

Eric sputtered for a moment and then sighed heavily. He knew when to pick his battles with the Frogs by now. 

“I don’t know,” he said and shrugged. “Whoever thinks of it first, I suspect.”

Chowder nodded seriously. 

“Can we talk about literally anything else?” Eric asked. “Nursey, how’s your girlfriend doing?”

“Oh, Sarah?” Nursey asked after another mouthful of fries. “We broke up.”

“What, when?” Chowder asked, whipping his head around.

“I thought things were going well,” Eric said. He exchanged a frown with Chowder across the table before turning back to Nursey.

“We just mutually decided we weren’t into it anymore,” Nursey said. “It’s no big.”

Nursey took a long slurp from his milkshake. He looked entirely unconcerned even though Eric and Chowder were both gaping at him.

“Just…like that?” Chowder asked, sounding sadder than Eric would have thought the situation merited. Sarah had been nice enough when Eric met her, but he definitely hadn’t put much stock in Nursey and her going the distance. 

“Not everyone is in it for the long haul, C,” Nursey said a moment later, echoing Eric’s thoughts. Nursey was smiling now as he nudged Chowder. “Most girls aren’t as nice as Farms. Besides, Sarah was always weird about the pansexual thing, so I kinda knew it was a short-term thing.”

“Weird?” Chowder was frowning. “You never said so.”

“It’s no big,” Nursey repeated. He shrugged again, one of his full-body shrugs of complete and practiced indifference. “It’s over now.”

  
  
  
  


\--

After lunch, Chowder and Nursey dropped Eric off at his own apartment. He had been tempted to ask them to just drop him at Jack’s - it wasn’t that much further than his own, but he had been chirped enough for Jack dropping him off earlier that he didn’t want to give them any more material. Besides, they both needed to get back to campus for late afternoon classes and before the ring box burned a literal hole in Chowder’s pocket. Eric was beginning to wonder if Chowder was even going to be able to make it to Valentine’s Day, which was almost two weeks away. 

The apartment was empty when he got home and he threw down his things and went straight to the kitchen. He needed to bake. He had enough leftover ingredients to make a pecan pie, he thought, even though it might be a little heavy on the sugar and light on the pecans. It wouldn’t matter. 

Lardo arrived home sometime after Eric had put it into the oven and set his timer. She was dressed in all black with a few dried paint smears from work on her jeans and she waved hello before grabbing a pile of food from the fridge and disappearing. She re-appeared when the buzzer for the pie went off and Eric was pulling it out. 

“Mmm, that looks amazing,” she said. Eric swatted at her after he put it on the cooling rack.

“It’s not for you, so don’t get any ideas,” he said. 

Lardo’s eyebrows shot up and she smiled wickedly at him.

“Is that a ‘thank you for fucking me’ pie, Bits?” she asked, craning her neck to get another look at it. He pushed her forcefully out of the kitchen, shaking his head. 

“No,” he said. “It’s not.”

She studied him for a long moment with narrowed eyes before crossing her arms.

“It’s some kind of special pie, though,” she said and then with a dawn of realization as she looked him over, she snapped her fingers. “You didn’t seal the deal last night, did you? Oh my god, Bits, you really made him a sex pie?”

“Shut up,” he muttered and headed towards his bedroom. “I can make Jack a pie without it being something crude.”

“Bitty, come on,” Lardo said, trailing him into his bedroom. “It’s okay if it is.”

Eric pressed a hand to his heated face and sighed before rolling his eyes.

“If I say it’s a sex pie will you let me change without harrassing me about it?” he asked.

Lardo smirked and nodded, zipping her lips theatrically and backing out the door. Eric sighed again as he closed his door on her so he could contemplate his closet and the roiling knot in his stomach as he thought of going over to Jack’s again.

It was another hour before he found himself getting out of a taxi in front of Jack’s apartment, clutching a pie tin to his chest and staring up at the tall building. Jack had given him the access code, so he barely hesitated before letting himself up. It was only when Jack answered his door, shirtless and confused, that Eric realized in all his nervousness of coming over, he hadn’t actually asked if he could.

“Hi,” Eric said.

“Hi,” Jack replied, smiling at Eric in a way that did not help at all with Eric’s nerves. Jack ran a hand through his mussed hair and looked a little sheepish as he looked down at his own shirtlessness, as though he had just realized it. “I, euh, didn’t know you were coming back.”

“I brought pie,” Eric said, holding it out a little further. “Pecan. I know it’s not your favorite, but it’s still warm.”

Jack stepped aside and let Eric inside, leading the way to the kitchen. Eric’s mouth went dry as he followed, admiring the way Jack’s back muscles moved and shifted in the dim lights of the apartment. Eric had only seen Jack shirtless in passing and had never really gotten his fill. He wasn’t sure he ever would, to be perfectly honest. 

“What’s my favorite pie?” Jack asked as he rummaged for plates and forks. Eric set the pie on the counter while he shucked his own jacket, gloves and hat which he took into the living room and laid on the couch. He took a few extra moments there to take a breath, calming his battering heart. He walked back into the kitchen and leaned in the doorway.

“Apple,” Eric answered confidently. 

Jack turned around and held out a fork to him, smiling softly. Eric hesitated a moment before grabbing Jack’s wrist instead and gently placing the fork back on the counter before surging upwards and kissing Jack, hard. It took Jack only a second to respond, wrapping both arms around Eric, his hands splayed wide across Eric’s back. Eric crowded as close as he could, letting the kiss grow deeper, sloppier. It reminded him fleetingly of the first time Jack had had him over to his apartment and had pressed him up against the counter, kissing Eric until he was out of breath and flustered. Eric wasn’t flustered now. 

“Jack, I want…” he gasped between kisses, unwilling to fully tear his mouth away from Jack’s so the words were mostly lost between them. 

“We don’t have to,” Jack said. Eric could almost feel how much the words were costing Jack as he pressed closer, his erection already half-hard against Eric’s leg. Eric licked his lips and willed himself to be brave. 

He let his hand dip low between them, resting on the waistband of Jack’s sweatpants. Jack froze, but didn’t pull away. Eric would have almost sworn he wasn’t breathing either, until he let out a quiet, gusty sigh and leaned his forehead against Eric’s shoulder. Eric’s fingers slipped under Jack’s the waistband and Jack turned his face up to kiss Eric so thoroughly that Eric momentarily forgot what he was doing. 

“Jack,” Eric said, with a small gasp as he pulled away for air. “Please. Can I…?”

“Yes,” was Jack’s delayed, guttural response. Eric kissed the side of his neck and pushed his hand further down into Jack’s pants, his fingers finding the silky shaft of Jack’s erection almost immediately. Jack made a small choking sound as Eric slowly wrapped his hand around it and his head fell forward onto Eric’s shoulder again, his lips kissing along his collarbone and his hands rucking up Eric’s shirt to gain access to more bare skin. Eric pressed closer, slowly stroking Jack. His own dick was hard and uncomfortable in his jeans, but Eric hardly cared as he watched Jack’s naked chest rise up and down unevenly. 

Jack was looking back at him and in the dim light of the kitchen, his eyes were strange and dark, nothing like the bright shocking blue they were in the sunlight. Eric let his other hand come up to gently tangle in Jack’s bangs, pushing them back, before pressing a kiss there and peppering a few along the ridge of Jack’s nose and cheeks. Jack tilted his face to accept the affection and his lips were waiting and warm when Eric found them. 

Jack’s hands threaded through his hair, holding him there while Jack kissed him more fiercely than he ever had before. Eric sped up his rhythm, eliciting a small whine from Jack, and he bit at Jack’s lip before pulling away entirely. Eric reached behind head and tugged at his t-shirt, pulling it up and off, and threw it aside, not caring where it landed. Then, he sank down on his knees. The tile floor was unforgiving and hard, but it hardly even registered in Eric’s mind as his entire world was suddenly consumed by a half-naked Jack Zimmermann at eye level. 

“Jack,” he murmured as he spread his hands across Jack’s abdominals in reverence. “You’re so beautiful.” 

He leaned forward to kiss Jack’s stomach and Jack let out a labored puff of air above him before resting a hand gently on the back of Eric’s head, his fingers playing with Eric’s hair as Eric took his time kissing along Jack’s stomach. When his lips finally made their way back down to Jack’s sweatpants, Eric let his hands slide them up Jack’s thighs, appreciating how thick and solid they were and  _ all his _ . 

“Is this okay?” he asked as his fingers hooked in the elastic of Jack’s pants and boxers to pull them down.

Jack grunted his approval and Eric kissed his abdomen again as he tugged down Jack’s pants, letting them pool at Jack’s feet.  Jack’s hands immediately smoothed over his bare shoulders, running tantalizing up and down his arms as Eric took in the full spectacle of Jack’s already leaking dick. 

Eric leaned forward and kissed it, taking it in his hand and pumping slowly a few times before closing his mouth over it. Jack groaned when Eric moved his tongue experimentally along the shaft and Eric felt Jack’s knees give a little. He looked up, not taking his mouth off of Jack and found that Jack had thrown his head back against the cabinet. His Adam’s apple was in sharp relief as it bobbed up and down and if Eric hadn’t already been painfully hard himself, the sight of that would have done it for him.

It had been a long time since Eric had given anyone a blowjob, but it wasn’t long before he found a rhythm between his tongue and hand that had Jack vocally enjoying himself. Jack’s hands were flitting along Eric’s shoulders, occasionally smoothing through Eric’s hair and urging him on. Eric ran his own free hand up Jack’s hipbone and around to his ass, which was too full and pliant under his fingers for Eric to resist squeezing. Jack huffed above him in what might have been a laugh when Eric also lightly slapped it.

“Bits,” he whispered unevenly. “I’m close.”

Eric hummed, Jack’s dick still in his mouth and sucked a little harder. He flattened his tongue out underneath the head and picked up his pace which made Jack groan, his knees bending even farther and giving Eric a better angle. Jack’s hips stuttered a moment later and Eric sucked hard at the first hint of salty cum, swallowing a full mouthful before pulling off and jerking Jack off through the rest of his orgasm. Jack slumped against the counter and looked down at Eric with cloudy, unfocused eyes when Eric finally let go, his hands resting on either side of Jack’s hips. Jack’s reached out to Eric and ran his thumb down his face, wiping his mouth. 

Eric rocked back on his heels and looked up at Jack, whose lips were parted so prettily that Eric badly wanted to kiss him again. Jack was still breathing heavily, just taking in the sight of Eric on his knees, his fingers curling in Eric’s hair. Eric leaned forward and kissed along Jack’s hipbone.

“C’mere,” Jack whispered, finally finding his voice. 

Eric leveraged himself up and fell against Jack’s chest, wrapping himself around Jack so every available inch of bare skin between them was touching. Eric’s chest and hair were already feeling tacky with cum, but Eric hardly cared at the moment. Jack’s hands, big and warm, pulled him closer as Jack crushed his mouth against Eric’s. When Eric’s jeans rubbed against Jack’s thigh, Eric couldn’t help the small whine that escaped him as the friction sent lightning straight through him. Jack seemed to take his cue from that and he reached behind Eric to grab the backs of his thighs and lift Eric up. Eric made a sound of surprise but wrapped his legs around Jack’s torso, groaning anew at the friction. Jack adjusted his grip slightly before walking them out of the kitchen and down the hallway, Eric hugging him tightly the whole time, kissing up and down his neck. When they got to his bedroom, Jack all but threw Eric down on the bed and crawled over him. Eric laughed at the impact and pulled Jack back into a kiss as soon as he was in range.

“Show-off,” Eric murmured against his lips. Jack grinned and nuzzled into the crook of Eric’s neck, letting his hips fall against Eric’s. Eric couldn’t help bucking up against him at the slightest hint of contact. “Tease,” he groaned as Jack pulled away. Jack laughed this time, obviously fully recovered from his momentary daze in the kitchen. 

“Payback for those red shorts you slept in last night,” Jack said quietly as his fingers circled the button of Eric’s jeans. Eric threw an arm across his face and laughed.

“Fair,” he conceded and then groaned again as Jack ran a hand along the outline of his erection in his jeans, instead of unbuttoning them. “Jack, please.”

Jack nudged Eric’s arm aside and smiled down at him before catching his lips in a kiss. Eric’s mouth slid open as their tongues tangled together and he sighed, sinking further into bed. Jack flicked the button on his jeans open and then shifted away so Eric could squirm and kick his way out of them. As soon as Eric was fully naked, Jack pressed close again and Eric shivered with the full-body sensation of skin on skin. Jack kissed him before letting a hand drift down to Eric’s dick. Eric drew in a sharp breath as he made contact and fell back against the pillow, biting his lip. 

“What do you like?” Jack asked, his thumb was lightly circling around the head and driving Eric crazy with the sensation already.

“Right now?” Eric asked, already out of breath. “Anything. It won’t take much.” 

Jack shifted away for a brief moment and reached into his bedside table. When he returned, his hand was slick with lube. Eric had to close his eyes to the sensation, crying out softly as Jack jerked him off slowly, his hand tight and warm on Eric. 

“Bits,” Jack whispered, his breath tickling at the nape of Eric’s neck. 

Eric bit back another cry and opened his eyes to see Jack watching him intensely. Jack leaned down to kiss him, biting at his lips, and tightening his grip and pace, and Eric barely had a moment of warning before he was coming, spilling warm and sticky all over Jack’s hand and sheets. 

“Oh,” Eric said as he flopped backwards. “Good Lord.”

Jack was grinning at him as he wiped his hand on the sheet. He kissed Eric’s cheek before rolling out of bed and returning a few moments later with a warm towel for Eric and a change of sheets. Eric slowly moved himself up and off the bed, his brain not quite back online yet as he wiped himself clean and sat in the chair in the far corner of Jack’s room as Jack changed his sheets. 

“Okay, Bits?” Jack asked as he came over to pull Eric to his feet and take him back to bed. Eric nodded and tried to pull Jack down with him into the bed, but Jack gently disentangled himself and kissed Eric on the forehead. Eric flopped backwards onto the bed and pouted at Jack.

“I’ll be right back,” he said with a smile before he disappeared down the hall. 

Eric was about to go in search of him when he reappeared with the pie tin, two forks and a uncorked bottle of wine in hand. Eric scooted himself to sitting in the bed hurriedly and moved over so Jack could place everything on the duvet.

“We’re going to get crumbs on your clean sheets,” Eric said as he grabbed a fork. 

Jack shrugged. 

“I’m sure we’ll live,” he said, taking his own fork and passing Eric the bottle of wine. Eric took a swig from the bottle and grinned at Jack as the cabernet went down smoothly. 

“Not the wine pairing I would have chosen,” Eric teased. Jack bumped his shoulder against Eric’s and took the bottle from him before taking a much smaller sip and setting it on the bedside table.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Bittle,” he said. 

Eric pulled the duvet up to cover his lap and then set the pie tin on his lap so that he could cuddle closer to Jack as they leaned against the headboard and ate straight out of the tin. Jack only ate a few bites of the pie, but made it very clear that they were enjoyable bites, kissing Eric between each one, his mouth tasting of sugar and pecan. 

“To think, I used to believe that I’d never live to see the day when you’d praise my pies,” Eric said as he finally pushed the tin aside. He put his fork in the small dent he’d made and handed it to Jack who set it aside on table after moving a few things around. 

“How did you know my favorite was apple then?” Jack asked softly as Eric joined him in laying down fully on the bed. Eric turned on his side so he could slide an arm around Jack’s waist so they were thoroughly entangled together. He pressed a kiss to Jack’s bare chest and hummed thoughtfully.

“Whenever you have a choice,” he said. “You always pick apple.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to skip the sex scene, it begins with the line _Jack turned around and held out a fork to him, smiling softly._ and ends with _“Oh,” Eric said as he flopped backwards. “Good Lord.”_
> 
>  
> 
> \--
> 
>  
> 
> OMG, only 2 chapters left in this fic!! It's gonna be great! So many loose ends! So much stuff left to happen! *sweats nervously*


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Rachel who is my faithful first reader and sounding board for this story. Your long torment is almost over. ;)

“I’m pretty sure Chowder’s proposal video now has more hits than my entire vlog catalog,” Eric sighed dramatically as he scrolled through his Twitter feed. He was leaning against the back of the couch, watching as Jack loaded the dryer in his apartment. Jack stood up and rubbed his face, squinting at Eric. 

“Oh, uh...is that bad?” Jack asked. 

“No, of course not,” Eric harrumphed. “It’s great for Chowder.” 

Eric flopped backwards onto the couch and waved Jack off, but Jack loomed over him with a frown. Eric sighed and put his phone aside. He had to stretch to get it onto the coffee table and still stay on the couch. Jack took it from him when the struggle went on too long and set it on the edge of the table gently before sitting on the arm of the couch above Eric. Eric pouted a little but took the moment to pull himself into a more comfortable position, leaning his head back against Jack’s thigh as Jack shifted onto the couch next to him.

“I just always thought…” Eric trailed off and blushed. “Well, nevermind.”

“What?” Jack prodded after a moment. Eric looked up at him, seeing his head tilted to the side in gentle curiosity. Eric let his shoulders slump a little more against Jack’s thigh and he pursed his lips in thought, choosing his words carefully. 

“I just thought that my vlog would take off one day if I worked hard enough at it, you know?” he said. “Like, I would just keep putting out great content and then one day, it would get the right attention and I would get a book deal or a legit web series or something.”

“That could still happen,” Jack said.

Eric smiled a little sadly at him.

“Probably not though,” he said. He ran a finger up the seam Jack’s sweatpants. Jack’s face was still pulled into a concerned frown, wrinkles forming between his stern eyebrows. Eric smiled softly up at him and turned his face to bury it into Jack’s t-shirt. Jack’s fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently at the strands. 

“Do you not like coaching?” he asked finally.

“I do,” Eric said. He frowned in thought and shrugged as much as he was able to in his position. “It’s just never what I thought I’d be doing. I never thought…well,  if you had asked 12 year-old me which parent’s footsteps I’d be following in, my dad wouldn’t have exactly been my choice.”

“Ah,” Jack said. His hand in Eric’s hair paused for a moment and Eric’s eyes flicked up to him. 

“I didn’t expect to like coaching as much as I do,” Eric said softly. “I think I subconsciously wanted to hate it, so that I could quit and go run off to take a crappy, underpaid job at a bakery in town.”

That got Jack to smile, at last.

“But you are good at it,” Jack said. A statement, not a question. Eric’s heart jumped a little in his chest at the open affection in Jack’s tone. He hoped he never grew immune to it. He sat up and scooted backwards so he was almost sitting in Jack’s lap before pressing a firm kiss to Jack’s mouth. 

“Hall is interested in running speed clinics for all of the boys next year, not just the incoming freshmen,” Eric said, dodging the compliment. “It might mean that we’ll need to take on a student again to help manage equipment and such, but I think it’ll be good. We’ve been reviewing tapes for next year’s class and we have a lot of really strong options - I think we’ll finally be able to shore up our defense.”

Jack squeezed Eric’s hip in silent recognition of the subject change, but he also took the bait, delving into the various backgrounds of the incoming freshman class and discussing the dying gasps of the current season with Eric until the buzzer went off on the dryer. 

He was piling his freshly dry laundry into the waiting basket when Eric remembered about the surprise he’d planned for the graduating seniors. He’d been coordinating with Kent for almost a month now to make it happen, but had only just heard the affirmative that morning and then promptly forgotten about while he spent the day with Jack loafing around his apartment. He followed Jack absently into Jack’s bedroom where Jack dumped the basket over on his neatly made bed and started to sort the laundry. Eric curled up at the head of the bed, keeping just clear of the laundry. 

“I forgot to say, but Kent said he could get us enough tickets to surprise the boys,” Eric said. He thumbed open his DMs to see the message again and read it aloud to Jack, who looked pleased at the news. 

“Great,” Jack said, smiling. “I’m glad he could come through.”

“He owes me for whining in my DMs all year,” Eric joked and threw a wink in Jack’s direction. Jack threw a t-shirt at Eric’s head with surprising accuracy and Eric cried out as he dodged it, but it still caught his hair as it landed on the pillow behind him. “Rude, Mr. Zimmermann.”

“That’s my only friend you’re talking about,” Jack said, all business. “Got to defend his honor.”

Eric snorted.

“I’m telling Shitty you don’t think of him as a friend,” he said. “He’ll be crushed.”

Jack smiled wickedly at Eric and Eric grinned back, feeling goofy and loose in the moment. It was the thought of the game itself returning to Eric that stole the smile off his face. 

“You really don’t have to come to the game, you know,” Eric said for what might have been the fifth time since he’d first floated the idea of taking the boys out to a NHL game to Jack a few weeks ago. 

“Bits, I want to come,” Jack said. “Don’t worry about it.”

Eric frowned at him before grabbing the t-shirt and folding it carefully. He reached across the bed to place it on the growing stack. 

“I just don’t want to put you a bad situation again,” Eric said. “Last time we went to an Aces game —”

Jack cut him off by flopping onto the bed and pulling him down into a hug, smothering him with his weight. Eric sputtered underneath him, but the squirming was mostly for show. He let Jack kiss him into submission and sighed when Jack finally pulled back. 

“Last time we went to a game, I had a lot of things working against me,” Jack said quietly. He pushed Eric’s hair back from his forehead and kissed him there. “I was going with this cute guy that I was starting to have feelings for, things with Kent are never as simple as they should be and I hadn’t been to an NHL game in years. It was a lot all at once.”

“I didn’t know that,” Eric said. He sat up a bit on his elbows, frowning at Jack.

“That I had feelings for you?” Jack said, smiling.

“No, silly,” Eric said. “That it was your first NHL game in years. You didn’t tell me.”

“Oh,” Jack said. His smile faded a bit and he rolled off of Eric, laying down next to him and intertwining their fingers. Eric rolled onto his side, propping his head on his elbow so he could look down at Jack. Jack shrugged, the sheets moving underneath his broad shoulders as he did so. He looked thoughtful as he returned Eric’s gaze steadily. His hand ran and down up Eric’s arm, fingers light as they dragged across his skin. “I thought Kent would have said something, to be honest. I thought that’s why he got you to ask.”

“No,” Eric said. “He didn’t say anything like that. I had no idea.”

Jack’s fingers curled a little more purposefully around Eric’s elbow and he tugged gently, pulling Eric down to the bed so that his lips were easily in range. Jack’s kisses were soft and slow, warm like honey, as he pulled Eric closer. Eric let his hand work its way under Jack’s already rucked up shirt.

“Mmm, you’re trying to distract me,” Eric said as Jack kissed along his throat.

“Is it working?” Jack asked. 

Eric made a noise of agreement in the back of his throat, but also pushed Jack away a little for a bit of air. 

“Why hadn’t you gone in so long?” Eric asked. He couldn’t help but pull at the thread. It was still rare that Jack opened doors like this to Eric.

Jack sighed and leaned back and away from Eric. His eyes were hooded as his mouth puckered into a small frown. Eric could tell he was considering the question.

“Hockey…was a trigger for so long,” Jack said, his eyes flicking up to meet Eric’s, intense and bright. “It was better to avoid it completely. When I went to grad school and decided on sports nutrition, I never planned on playing again and it was easier to cut it out entirely.

“The job at Samwell…it came up at the right time and Samwell had meant so much to my mom that it just felt like fate,” he continued. “Then I met this incredibly frustrating hockey player there, captain of his team and always stuffing them with baked goods. No concern for their nutrition plan at all.”

Eric scoffed, but Jack kept talking, not letting him interrupt.

“Eventually, I started streaming the games just to see this guy play. At first, it was because I wanted to prove something to him about how much better he could be if he just laid off the pie, but then…he was really good. Fast. Before I knew it, I was watching the games just to see him play.”

“Jack…” Eric whispered. 

Jack grabbed Eric’s hand and kissed his palm. 

“I wasn’t sure to be glad or frustrated when you took the coaching assistant job,” Jack confessed. “I thought you would just graduate and I’d never see you again and I could forget about it.”

“I thought you hated me,” Eric said softly.

Jack blinked at him. 

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t.”

Eric rushed forward to kiss him and rolled on top of Jack to straddle him. Jack’s hands immediately came up to grip his hips, slipping under Eric’s tank top and stripping the shirt off Eric in one fluid motion. Eric scrabbled to get Jack’s shirt off as well and they moved together to get further up the bed, knocking several piles of the laundry off in the process. Eric giggled as Jack just pulled him back into the kiss, obviously not concerned about all his folding going to waste.

“I love you,” Eric murmured between kisses, the words slipping out for the first time. He barely had time to panic about them before Jack kissed him back with almost bruising intensity, swallowing any backpedaling that Eric could have tried. Eric responded by pressing even closer, his hips hitching against Jack’s. 

“I love you,” Jack said after a moment, his voice ragged as he reached down to pull at Eric’s shorts. “I love you so much.”

 

\--

 

March arrived with shivering rain to announce the end of the Samwell Men’s Hockey team’s season. To add insult to injury, their last game of the season was on the road against a roaring Yale crowd that was thrilled to see Samwell fold 3-1. The boys filtered off the ice with lowered heads. 

Hall and Murray had scant words of comfort for them. Eric wasn’t sure what to say either. At this point, it felt like it had all been said anyways. They had known for almost two weeks now that Samwell would likely miss the playoffs unless another team took a huge dive in the standings, which hadn’t happened. They had had plenty of time to prepare for the end. 

Still, it hurt.

The mood had hardly improved later that week when Eric supervised the team’s locker clean-out. He had made several trays worth of muffins that the team pecked at, but no one seemed overly interested in. He tried not to take it personally. 

Dex lingered in the locker room with Eric, talking to each of the boys individually as they came in and slapping them on the back. Eric wished he weren’t half so somber, but he knew Dex was doing his best as captain so he swallowed any advice. Finally, when the last of the boys had checked out with Eric and Eric had nothing to do except sort through the equipment, Dex sat down next to him on the bench and sighed.

“Was it this hard for you last year?” Dex asked, frowning at the door out to the ice.

“It was rough,” Eric agreed. “It’s hard to be the one everyone looks to after a big loss.”

Dex kicked the bench they were sitting on and stood up, obviously restless. 

“I’ve been getting calls,” he said. He didn’t have to specify what kind. Eric knew the kind of calls a NCAA player of Dex’s skill level would get after his season was over. 

“Any good ones?” Eric asked carefully.

Dex shrugged noncommittally. 

“Mostly just spots at training camps. No promises or anything,” Dex said.

Eric made a small sound of understanding. 

“I just don’t want this to be it,” Dex said, looking around the empty locker room. “I know I probably won’t ever make it to the big show, but if I have the chance to keep playing, don’t you think I should?”

“I can’t answer that for you, Dex,” Eric said, standing and bracing a hand on the much taller man’s shoulder. “It’s about what you want for yourself now.”

“It’ll mean not coming out for a long time,” Dex said. “But…”

“But,” Eric echoed. He knew exactly what Dex was thinking - but  _ I’ll be playing _ . He thought of Kent Parson torturing himself over whether to tell his teammates after so many years of keeping it from them. He swallowed. “You never know how things might change in the next couple of years.”

“Yeah, right,” Dex exhaled loudly. He didn’t sound cheered by the weak encouragement, but Eric didn’t expect him to be. 

“Hey, Bitty?” Dex asked after a while.

Eric hummed to show he was listening.

“Thanks,” Dex said. Eric turned to look at him in surprise. “For everything this year. Last year, too. You were a great captain and a good coach.”

Eric melted against the locker he was leaning on and smiled over at Dex.

“Thanks,” he said. “I never thought I’d be here, you know? Coaching and all.”

“You’re really good at it,” Dex said, bumping his shoulder against Eric’s.

“Runs in my family, I guess,” Eric joked, thinking of his conversation with Jack a couple of weeks before.

“I’m glad you gave it a chance,” Dex said. He picked up his gear bag and sighed heavily before giving a low wave to Eric. “I’ll see you at the banquet, yeah?”

“Of course, Dex,” Eric said with a smile. “Let me know if you need a sounding board in the meantime, okay?”

“Yeah,” Dex said. “Thanks, man.”

After Dex left, Eric pulled on his skates and pushed out onto the ice, relishing the silence of Faber and the soft orange light from the late evening sun filtering through the windows. He was only a few laps in when he heard the gate open and turned around to see Jack slipping out onto the ice. Eric smiled, skating backwards around the corner as Jack caught up with him. He held out his arms as Jack collided gently with him and they drifted on the ice together.

“How’d you know where to find me?” Eric asked.

“Ran into some of the boys walking across campus and they tipped me off,” Jack said. “I grabbed some rental skates from the front desk on a hunch.”

Eric turned around to skate forward again, but didn’t let go of Jack’s hand. 

“I love Faber when it’s quiet like this,” he sighed. “Usually you have to get up pretty early for this kind of ice time.” 

“I’m sure,” Jack said from behind him. 

Eric looked back to him and smiled. It was nice to see Jack on the ice - he always looked like he was somehow returning to his natural habitat the moment his skates touched the ice and Eric marveled at the grace he packed into every push across the ice. 

“Are you done for the day?” Eric asked as they fell into an easy rhythm together, lapping the ice. 

Jack shrugged.

“I can be,” he said. “I have some grading that needs to get done, but I can bring it home.”

“Hall and Murray asked me to review some more tape of next year’s prospects so we can start narrowing down our offers,” Eric said.

“Sounds like a date,” Jack joked, squeezing Eric’s hand. Eric squeezed back.

They lapsed into silence again until Jack cleared his throat. Eric glanced over at him questioningly.

“I — uh — wanted to wait until you were done with team stuff to ask you,” he said, pulling them both to a gentle stop in the middle of the ice. Eric drifted closer to him, wrapping both arms around Jack’s middle to anchor them together. Jack smiled down at him and returned the gesture. 

“Yes?” Eric prompted when it was clear that Jack had lost his thread. Jack cleared his throat again and Eric realized he was nervous. Eric’s face softened immediately, dropping the teasing smile, and he snuggled closer to Jack. Jack seemed to relax as Eric’s hug tightened around him.

“Spring Break,” Jack said and Eric looked up from Jack’s chest to meet his eyes. Jack was looking steadily back as though he was expecting some sort of answer from Eric. 

“Spring Break,” Eric echoed slowly. When Jack did nothing but nod very slightly, Eric huffed a small sigh. “Sweetheart,” he said. “You’re going to have to elaborate a bit for me.”

Jack’s cheeks pinked and he ducked his head. Eric let him gather his thoughts patiently. 

“I meant,” Jack tried again. “Do you want to go somewhere? With me? I wasn’t sure if you had any plans, but I thought we might…I don’t know. Do something. Together.”

Eric’s heart squeezed tightly in his chest and he felt suddenly like he might just burst open from the feeling. He disentangled himself from Jack and pulled himself back into motion, skating a light circle around Jack, who was tracking his every movement. Eric made a show of putting his finger to the side of his face, mimicking a thoughtful face as he circled Jack.

“I don’t know, Mr. Zimmermann,” he sighed dramatically. “Would I like to spend an entire week with a silly, thoughtful, kind man that I absolutely adore? Or would I like to spend the week alone in my apartment while everyone else goes on vacation? Sounds like a tough sell.”

Jack relaxed visibly, as though he had been somehow unsure of Eric’s answer after all and Eric melted at that, closing the distance between them with a few short pushes of his skates and throwing himself at Jack in a hug. Jack laughed gruffly and caught him, allowing them to spin together on the ice for a moment before they ran into the boards lightly. Eric used the moment of impact to spring up and kiss Jack. 

“I’d love to do something with you over Spring Break, sweetheart,” he said. 

“Good,” Jack said. 

Eric burst out into laughter at his simple response and he smiled loosely back at Eric.

  
  


\--

  
  
  


Eric had expected some trouble rounding up the five graduating seniors without tipping them off to the surprise, but in the end all it had taken was an invitation from Shitty over to his apartment billed as as an “Induction to Fucking Adulthood” to entice them over on the Friday afternoon that Spring Break began. Eric and Jack were due to leave the next morning on a short trip alone together to Martha’s Vineyard, but the game tickets had already been secured by the time Jack had asked Eric to go.

“You know,” Eric said as he drove Lardo’s car up to the curb behind what he recognized as Dalton’s hatchback down the block from Shitty’s rented house. “I think I can count the number of times I’ve been here on, like, one hand. Sometimes I forget that Shitty doesn’t live with us.”

Lardo snorted beside him. 

“I think he forgets too,” she said. “If only he’d pay some fucking rent.”

“Hear, hear,” Eric said.                        

The moment he stepped out of the car, he could feel the vibration of the music emanating from the small house that Shitty rented out with two of his law school buddies. Jack ducked out from the backseat of the car and frowned at the house.

“He does know we’re taking them to the game, right?” Jack asked, clearly concerned.

Lardo barked a laugh and punched him on the arm.

“Ch’yeah, bro,” she said. “He’s just getting them pumped.”

“Uh,” Jack said. “Ok.”

Eric ribbed him lightly and nodded towards the door.

“Cross my heart that I won’t let him give you any tub juice, Mr. Zimmermann,” Eric teased.

Jack rolled his eyes and slid a hand around Eric’s waist, squeezing lightly. They walked inside together, following Lardo as she pushed the front door open without pausing to knock. There was a general commotion emanating from the den and Lardo led the way in, shushing Eric and Jack behind her with a stern finger to her lips. 

They were greeted with the sight of the five seniors on their knees, blindfolded in the den with Shitty looming over them, giving a nonsensical speech, punctuated by long sips of the whiskey sour in his hand. 

“At last!” Shitty burst out as he saw them creep into the den. “The hour of mayhem is upon us and your fate has arrived.”

“Bro, does that mean we can take these blindfolds off already?” Nursey asked.

“Silence!” Shitty roared. “I must consult with the fates.”

Shitty turned to them, expectant and obviously more than a little buzzed judging by the manic energy rolling off of his mustache. Eric stepped forward and produced the envelope of tickets, handing it over with as much ceremony as he could muster. Jack and he had driven to the arena and back this morning just to pick up the paper tickets because Shitty had insisted it would “make a bigger splash” than just telling the boys where they were going. Shitty took the envelope and rubbed his mustache thoughtfully as he peeked inside.

“The fates are kind indeed, boys,” Shitty announced broadly. Chowder snickered from his spot on the floor and leaned heavily on Nursey’s shoulder, reminding Eric strongly of their freshman hazing when Chowder could barely handle a Natty Lite without passing out. Eric exchanged a knowing glance with Lardo and by her smirk, he could tell she was thinking the exact same thing. “In fact, the fates have really outdone themselves tonight!”

Shitty was looking at their seat locations with a critical eye and nodding at the seats they’d snagged. Kent had somehow managed to get eight seats grouped together in two rows right on the rail of the third tier for them. Eric had been expecting for them to have to split up to get them all there, so he wasn’t exactly sure how Kent had managed it aside from just throwing money at the problem until it solved itself, but he also wasn’t looking the gift horse in the mouth. When he had first floated the idea, he had been half-joking, half-expecting to foot the bill himself with a little bit of help from Hall and Murray, but Kent had waved away any mention of paying for tickets and had delivered in style. 

“My dear fate,” Shitty said, waving the envelope for Lardo to grab from him. “Please distribute the night’s agenda to these burgeoning adults.”

Lardo grabbed the envelope with smug smirk and began to tuck them into the blindfolds of each of the frogs. Dex pulled back in obvious surprise as she poked him in the nose before sliding the ticket in between the fabric and his face.

“What the hell?” Dex asked. Lardo flicked Dex’s ear hard enough that Eric heard it across the room and he winced in sympathy. He snuck a glance at Jack, who looked bemused by the entire scene. 

“Silence!” Shitty yelled. Lardo stepped back and re-joined Eric and Jack. “Now, you may remove your blindfolds and inspect your mission for the night.”

General chaos broke out in the room as the five frogs realized that the tickets were in fact real, and even more importantly, for that very night. It took them a solid half hour to organize themselves into two cars and leave Lardo waving goodbye on the front stoop of Shitty’s place. 

By the time they got the arena, the sun was starting to set and the crowd was swirling. The boys headed right down to the ice to catch the end of warm-ups and Eric, Jack and Shitty followed at a distance, sitting a few rows up as they watched Dex and Nursey quibble over who was taller as they tried to get closer to the glass and look over the heads of a small gaggle of pre-teen girls trying to catch the attention of the Aces’ goalie. When Kent Parson suddenly edged to a dramatic stop in front of the glass, spraying snow and laughing as Swoops ran into him, it was hard to tell if the pre-teen girls or the Samwell team was making more noise. Kent spotted Jack in the crowd and waved before jawing off at Swoops and skating away. The girls in front of them all dissolved into giggles.

“Brah, this was fucking genius,” Shitty said, throwing an arm around Eric’s shoulders. “Like way to use your boyfriend’s connections for the greater good, Bits.”

Eric snorted and rolled his eyes in Jack’s direction. 

“You know my boyfriend is standing right there, right?” he asked dryly. Shitty laughed and mussed Eric’s hair playfully.

“That’s fucking right he is!” Shitty crowed and then pulled Jack into a hug too. “God, you fuckers. I’m so happy you figured this shit out.”

“Even though you lost your bet?” Jack asked and Eric almost spit out the mouthful of beer he had just taken. He gave Jack an incredulous look and swallowed carefully. Shitty looked just as gobsmacked. 

“Number one, how the fuck do you even know about that?” Shitty asked. “Number two,  _ brah _ , as if a mere $100 is a huge price to pay to witness your truly inspirational love story unfold before my very fucking eyes.”

Jack chuckled softly, but dodged answering the question when the frogs suddenly appeared by their side and starting making noise about getting second beers before the game started. Shitty commandeered them out into the concourse where they all finished off their beers and ordered another, save Jack who hung back from the line and waited for Eric to catch back up to him. 

Eric sidled up to him as the boys bickered in line and bumped his shoulder gently. He tucked his free hand into his pocket as a firm reminder not to grab Jack’s hand here - they hadn’t talked about it ahead of time, but there seemed to be an unspoken agreement between them to keep the PDA off limits while they were at the game. Jack had shoved both of his hands in his pockets as well, but bumped Eric’s shoulder back with a small, secret smile. 

“How did you know about the bet?” Eric asked. “I never told you.”

“Lardo,” Jack said with a shrug. He didn’t elaborate.

Eric sighed and took a swig of beer. 

“You know, I didn’t — I mean, I wouldn’t have —” Eric said, stumbling over his own words. He bit his lip in consternation and frowned, looking down at his beer.

“Bits,” Jack said softly. “I know, bud. That’s why she told me, I think. She wanted to make sure it didn’t get garbled if I found out about it later.”

Eric flushed.

“Oh,” he said. “Okay.” 

Jack bumped his shoulder again. 

“It’s fine,” Jack said. “They were just joking around, eh?”

“Yeah,” Eric said, letting out a breath of relief. 

They dropped it after that and let the crowd of frogs led by Shitty guide them up the stairs to their seats. Jack and Eric took the back row, along with Nursey and Chowder while Shitty sat in the row ahead of them with Dex, Dalton and Whitty. Shitty was turned awkwardly in his chair so he could address both rows of his audience and Eric couldn’t help but laugh at the people around them who seemed to be just as interested in his rambling monologues as the frogs even though they had no idea who Shitty was. Jack, for his part, in the seat next to Eric, seemed infinitely more relaxed than he had been at the last Aces game they’d gone to. Eric desperately wanted to grab his hand and thread their fingers together, but settled instead for pressing his knee against Jack’s for now. They always had later. 

Chowder kept a constant stream of chatter flowing in Jack and Eric’s direction until the national anthem started and they all settled down a little as the players skated onto the ice again. Jack took the moment to lean into Eric’s space and whisper in his ear, low enough that only Eric could hear him. 

“Thank you for inviting me to this,” Jack said. Eric turned sideways and smiled at him, their faces still a little too close to be fully platonic. He bit his lip and blushed. He didn’t miss the way Jack’s eyes tracked the movement.

_ Later _ , he promised himself as he turned back to the ice just in time to see the puck drop. 

 

—

 

_ Later  _ turned out to be much, much later when Kent texted Jack after the game insisting that the Samwell gang meet up with him and some of his teammates at the same bar they’d met the Aces at the last time they were in town. The original plan had been to let Shitty take over the rest of the night while Eric and Jack escaped back to Boston early to finish getting ready for their trip in the morning. Eric hadn’t expected Kent to want to hang out with a bunch of college kids on one of their last big benders before graduation, after all. But Kent had insisted and Jack had shrugged and it wasn’t like Eric was going to let Shitty and the frogs hang out with Aces by themselves. Good lord, the trouble they would get into.

They invaded the already crowded bar as soon as the game traffic had cleared and stole two large booths in the back. It wasn’t terribly long before Kent arrived, with several of his teammates in tow. The frogs were clearly starstruck - it wasn’t every day that they got to hang out with NHLers - but they did a good job of at least trying to act normal. Eric had given them firm instructions not to ask for autographs or post any selfies with the players, but he wasn’t sure if any of them were sober enough to really have fully absorbed his words of warning. The Aces, for their part, seemed immediately endeared by the college boys and started feeding them drinks as soon as they caught the bartender’s attention. Eric found himself alone at the far end of the bar with Kent after not too long and Kent slid a gin and tonic across to him with a nod of greeting.

“Nice game tonight,” Eric said.

“Thanks,” Kent said, twisting his baseball cap to the back. “Nice to win one on the road for once.”

“Please,” Eric said. “Y’all have been looking up the past few weeks.”

“Not good enough,” Kent said with an edge of frustration in his voice.

Eric’s mouth twisted in a frown and his eyes darted over to the knot of hockey players mixing nearby. Dex and Nursey were both talking animatedly with one of the Aces’ D-men, Crockett, while Chowder was getting starry-eyed over the back-up goalie. 

“I think you gave Dex a heart attack when you remembered his name,” Eric said, changing the subject as best he could. Kent had greeted Dex earlier by asking him what camps he was going to over the summer and Dex had nearly had a fit on the spot, turning so red that Eric thought his ears might start steaming. 

Kent smirked.

“I have that effect on people,” he said.

“Ugh,” Eric said. “That was awful.”

Kent laughed, leaning back against the bar with a grin. His eyes drifted over to where the boys were all huddled at the other end of the bar with a smattering of Aces and when Eric followed his line of sight, he saw that Kent was really looking at Jack, who was leaned against the bar talking easily with Swoops and LeBon. Eric could tell they were speaking in French by the way Jack was gesturing with his hands, something he only seemed to do when he spoke French.

“I’m happy for you, you know,” Kent said. He looked back over to Eric and swirled his straw in his drink before taking a drink. He made a face as it went down and Eric wondered if he was just drinking his gin straight that night. “For a long time, I thought that Zimms and I...well, I wasted a lot of time thinking about what might have been if we could have just gotten our shit together. But I get it now, you know?”

“Get what?” Eric asked.

Kent gave him an inscrutable look. 

“He’s happy with you. Happier than I’ve ever seen him,” he said, not quite answering the question. 

“You’re gonna find someone who will make you happy too one day, Kent,” Eric said. 

Kent snorted. He took a long swig of his gin and slammed the glass back down on the table more forcefully than necessary. When he met Eric’s eyes again, his expression was the practiced smirk of the presser, all of the moment’s intimacy carefully packed away. 

“Probably not if I leave my dating schedule up to those idiots,” Kent said, waving vaguely towards the bar where several of his teammates were now chatting up the bartender and throwing looks over to Kent occasionally. LeBon in particular waggled his eyebrows at Kent suggestively when he saw Kent looking and nodded towards the bartender, a tall, tow-headed man who looked thoroughly annoyed by the horde of hockey players at his bar. Kent rolled his eyes in return and shook his head. LeBon shrugged a single shoulder at Kent and shook his head back before returning to his conversation with Swoops and Jack. 

Eric tilted his head to side, understanding all of a sudden what that exchange meant to Kent. He studied Kent, who was frowning at his empty gin glass, as if he was hoping it would somehow refill itself autonomously. 

“Probably not,” Eric allowed. Then, clearing his throat, he added, “I think it’s great that you trusted them with it. That’s huge.”

Kent dismissed him with a wave, his eyes still glued to the glass in his hands, and his shoulders slumped in practiced disinterest. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “So brave to finally tell my friends I like cock after eight years of playing with them. I’m a real hero.”

“Kent,” Eric said, frowning at him. Kent’s eyes flicked back over to him and he frowned back.

“Don’t make it into something it’s not,” Kent said, even sharper. 

“Are you allergic to being nice for more than five minutes?” Eric asked, equally annoyed. He felt his face pinch into a scowl. 

“Yes,” Kent said flatly. He grabbed his empty glass and stood up from his stool without another word, making his way towards his teammates. Eric watched him go in disbelief, shaking his head at Kent’s back. It was a wonder that his teammates seemed so fond of him, really. Eric would have strangled Kent years ago if he had to play on the same ice as him on a regular basis.

Jack slid into the stool next to him at the bar a few moments later and let his hand rest casually on Eric’s arm. Eric leaned into him for a moment, allowing a brief moment of contact before sitting up straight on his stool again, all too aware of their surroundings. He sighed.

“It’s like the moment I decide that I actually can kind of stand him as a friend, he has to say something completely awful to remind me that he’s terrible,” Eric said. 

Jack’s shoulder shook in silent laughter next to him and Eric glanced up at him to see a smirk flit across Jack’s face. 

“He grows on you,” Jack said. 

“Ugh,” Eric said. “He already has. Unfortunately.” 

“What are we talking about?” Swoops asked as he practically dove into the empty stretch of bar next to them to grab the glass of water that had been abandoned on the table by Kent a moment ago. 

“How much Bits wants to strangle Parse,” Jack said casually. 

Swoops nodded seriously as he gulped down the water.

“Guy’s a total asswipe, right?” he said, wiping his mouth and putting the now empty cup aside. “Still. Dunno what we’d do without him. Fucker.”

“I would have killed him years ago if I had to play on his line,” Eric commiserated.

Swoops nodded again.

“I’ve considered it on multiple occasions,” he agreed. “Unfortunately, he’s our top scorer and his fucking face is on too many billboards for me to really get away with it, you know?” 

“What’s that about my face?” Kent asked as he led a small group of his teammates back over to join them. “You talking about how pretty you think it is, Swoops?”

“You fucking wish, you ogre,” Swoops said, shoving Kent as he sat down next to him. “More like how sometimes I wouldn’t mind if a few more punches made contact with it, eh?”

Eric and Jack stayed for another hour before Eric, noticing Jack’s flagging conversation, made noise about leaving. When Shitty caught wind of it, he came over and put an arm around both of them, hugging them into his side. 

“Excellent idea, Bits,” Shitty said. “To be honest, I was going to suggest you vamoose soon, brah. Plausible deniability before those fuckers get so shit-faced they forget their own names.”

“Shitty,” Eric groaned. “Please not in public.”

Shitty retracted one of his arms and slapped his own chest in mock offense.

“Eric Richard Bittle,” he said theatrically. “I would never advise anyone under my charge to get blackout drunk just because it might be one of their last big hurrahs in college.”

“You’re right, I should definitely leave now,” Eric agreed. He cast a worried look over to the frogs who seemed no worse for wear even though Eric knew they were all several beers in. “You promise to get them all to the hotel before they end up the subject of next week’s Swallow, at least, right?”

“Cross my fucking heart, bro,” Shitty swore. “Now you two lovebirds have the most fucktastic time on your trip together.”

Jack laughed softly and Eric almost jumped to feel his hand land lightly on the small of his back. He smiled over at Jack and stepped a little closer. Jack’s hand rested a little more firmly there, not pulling away this time. 

“Thanks, Shitty,” Jack said. “Take care of the boys, okay?”

Shitty clapped him firmly on arm and whooped loudly. When the frogs looked up from the bar, Shitty waved them over with an even louder whistle and Eric bit back a sigh. So much for not drawing huge amounts of attention to themselves. 

Eric met the frogs half-way and his announcement that he was was leaving for the night was met with the expected outcry, with the boys trying to draw him back to the bar with them. Eric looked back to Jack for a little help, but found him saying his own goodbyes to some of the Aces. 

“Don’t trash the hotel rooms, okay?” Eric said, turning back to his frogs. “Those are secured with my credit card and I will personally tan all of y’all’s hides if you do anything dumb there.”

“Chill, Bits,” Nursey said. “Thanks for that.”

“Of course,” Eric said. “I didn’t want any of you to worry about driving home on your night out.” 

“Have fun on your trip with Jack!” Chowder said as they embraced. “It sounds ‘swawesome.”

“Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do, Bits,” Nursey chipped in, nudging him with his elbow. Eric gave him a dark look and rolled his eyes.

“Lord,” he said. “We are going to Martha’s Vineyard, not Miami, Nursey.”

Nursey held up his hands in defense and laughed.

“I don’t know what people get up to in the Vineyard. Could be a crazy time.”

“I thought those were your people?” Dex asked dryly.

Nursey gave him an affronted look. 

“Why would I go to the Vineyard when I could go to the Hamptons, Poindexter?” Nursey said. “No offense, Bits. I’m sure it’ll be cool as fuck.”

“No offense taken,” Eric said, fighting back a sigh before patting Chowder gently on the arm and meeting Jack’s eyes over the crowd. “I’m out for the night, though. Have fun and I better not hear about any shenanigans in the Swallow next week.” 

“Yes, Coach Bittle,” Nursey said, saluting him with a sarcastic flair. 

“Don’t be an ass, Nursey,” Dex said.

“Goodnight, boys,” Eric said, cutting off the argument before it could start. He waved and turned to find Jack, who had drifted much closer in the intervening seconds since he’d last looked for him. They bid the remaining Aces goodbye as well, with Kent hugging both of them unexpectedly and telling them to come out to Vegas. Swoops had also hugged Eric and Jack goodbye, promising to look out for Kent with a knowing wink to Eric. 

When they finally made it out to the car, alone for the first time in hours, they both sighed in unison as the doors closed and Eric giggled at the timing, leaning his head against the window while handing the keys over to Jack so he could drive them home. They’d borrowed Lardo’s car for the night since it could fit more hockey players than Jack’s truck. 

“Lord, those boys are exhausting,” Eric said.

Jack’s hand curled around Eric’s neck and gripped it gently, rubbing circles there. 

“They loved it,” Jack said simply. 

“Yeah,” Eric said and turned sideways to look at Jack. He leaned over the console and pressed a kiss to Jack’s mouth. “I’m glad it went so well.”

Jack kissed him back, a flutter of lips against Eric’s before pulling back and starting the car. Once he had pulled out of the parking lot, he reached across the gear shift and grabbed Eric’s hand, lacing their fingers together. Eric brought their joined hands up to his mouth to lightly kiss their fingers before letting them fall down at his side again. He relaxed into the seat and watched the streetlights cast pale shadows across Jack’s face the whole ride home, occasionally breaking the silence, but mostly just letting the moment wash over him, safe and content with Jack by his side.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo...this is pretty much the end, m'dears. I do have a short epilogue that will be going up hopefully next week-ish and it will involve a small time jump into the future a couple of months. 
> 
> Thank you so very much for sticking with this story through its erratic and long update schedule - it means so much to me! This story has been challenging and, at times, exhausting to write so the knowledge that it does have an audience was really, really important to me.


	12. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick notes:
> 
> \- This entire epilogue takes place about 3 months after the last chapter in the story.  
> \- When Dex refers to Ontario, he means Ontario, California and is going to play on the farm team for the Kings  
> \- Hockey signings and camps and technicalities are all approximate and please just go with it, it's just for a fun fictional story and it doesn't need to be perfectly realistic, right? Right.  
> I hope this is a fun and fulfilling epilogue for you and it's been a fantastic ride!! Thank you for all your support!!

**ABOUT THREE MONTHS LATER**

**NAPA VALLEY, CALIFORNIA**

\--

“I think the blue one is nice, sweetheart,” Eric said. Jack was holding up two ties for his inspection at the foot of their overlarge hotel bed. Jack threw the more sedate black one on the bed, threaded the blue one around his already popped collar, and then walked around the bed so Eric could tie it for him. Eric deftly knotted it and straightened it before smoothing Jack’s collar down and sitting back against the pillows. “Perfect,” he said, admiring his own craft.

“Thanks,” Jack murmured and pressed a kiss to Eric’s temple before walking over to the desk and picking up his phone.

Eric swung himself off the bed and stretched. He’d been dressed for hours after going to brunch with the rest of Chowder’s wedding party, but Jack had slept in after their red eye into San Francisco from Las Vegas the night before. He studied himself in the mirror and smoothed out the few wrinkles in his soft pink button-down.

“You sure you’re going to be okay without me at the ceremony?” Eric asked, throwing Jack a concerned look over his shoulder. Jack came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Eric, tucking his face against Eric’s neck and pressing a kiss there before looking back at Eric through the mirror.

“I’ll be fine, Bits,” he assured him. “It’s not like I don’t know anyone. Shitty has already been texting me about seat strategy.”

Eric relaxed in Jack’s arms with a sigh. He turned his face to peck Jack’s cheek but Jack caught him halfway in a more heated kiss.

“Have I told you how great you look today?” Jack murmured.

“Mmm, you have,” Eric said. “But I don’t mind you telling me again.”

Jack’s hand slid along Eric’s waist and Eric turned obligingly in his arms to face Jack. Jack walked him backwards until Eric felt the cool wood of the desk behind him. He had just grasped it with his free hand with the intention of leveraging himself up when a sharp series of raps on the door interrupted them. Jack broke off with a soft swear and Eric laughed, patting his chest before pushing him away gently.

“C’mon now, you knew we couldn’t get too busy before one of them came and found us,” Eric teased.

Jack stole another kiss before allowing Eric to answer the door. Eric smoothed his hair one more time and shook himself out before swinging open the door to find Dex there, fist raised to rap on the door again. Eric quirked an eyebrow at him.

“I was coming,” he said with a nod to Dex’s raised hand. “Hold your horses.”

“Sorry, Bitty,” Dex said, flushing and stuffing both hands in his pockets. “I know it’s still a little early, but, uh…Chowder can’t find his cufflinks? And he’s kinda freaking out?”

“Lord,” Eric muttered.

“Do you have any extras?” Dex asked, peering around Eric’s shoulder to the hotel room behind him.

“Do I have any extras?” Eric repeated. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and sighed. “I told you boys to check your tuxes last night and make sure everything was there.”

“Bitty, we did, I swear,” Dex said.

Eric sighed. His mind was already rapidly cycling through the various solutions as he took inventory of what all he has packed - definitely no extra cufflinks. He had seen a mall on the way in from the airport but it had to be at least a 40 minute drive from the winery hotel that Chowder’s wedding had taken over for the weekend. They would be cutting it close to get back in time for the ceremony without delaying anything.

“Alright, alright,” Eric said. He walked back to the desk where the keys to their rental car had been flung earlier that morning and grabbed them. “We’ll just have to go buy some before the ceremony.”

“But we have to be —” Dex said.

“I will drive fast,” Eric interrupted him before he could finish his protest.

“Bits,” Jack said. Jack reached out from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed and pulled Eric over before holding his other hand out in silent offer. It took Eric a moment to understand that he was looking at Jack’s own cufflinks. “You guys need to get to Chow as soon as possible, eh? Just take these. I’ll figure something else out.”

“Oh, but, Jack —” Eric said.

“Bittle,” Jack said sternly. He dropped the cuffs into Eric’s hand and gently forced Eric’s fingers closed around them. “It’s fine.”

“Don’t Bittle me,” Eric said fondly. He inspected the delicate silver links in his hand and then closed his fingers over them again as he felt a warm flutter of affection in his chest. “Are you sure, sweetheart?”

“Very sure,” Jack confirmed. “You guys still need to go get ready and Shitty, Lardo and I were already going to head into town to grab lunch before the ceremony this afternoon.”

Eric clutched the cufflinks to his chest and kissed Jack soundly. Jack’s hand cupped the back of his neck gently, pulling him down closer and Eric could feel the smile on his lips as Jack kissed him back.

Dex pointedly cleared his throat behind them.

“Uh, still here,” Dex said.

Eric sighed and rested his forehead against Jack’s as he waved Dex off. He pocketed the cufflinks and turned back to Jack, taking his face in both hands before kissing him again.

“You are the sweetest, most thoughtful man and I love you so much,” Eric said.

Jack’s face glowed with a soft smile and Eric couldn’t resist stealing yet another kiss. Dex made a sound of strangled disbelief behind them but Eric didn’t care. Jack patted him on his hip and gave him a small push.

“Go,” Jack said. “I’ll see you later.”

“Alright,” Eric said. “Have fun with Lardo and Shitty at lunch and the ceremony. Don’t let Shitty get into a fight with Chowder’s grandmother over the best seats in the house, okay?”

Jack chuckled and nodded.

“Poindexter,” Jack said, standing to shake Dex’s hand. “Nice to see you again.”

“Zimmermann,” Dex said in acknowledgement, grasping his hand firmly before turning back to Eric. “We good?”

“Yes, yes,” Eric said, waving him towards the door. “Let’s go.”

As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Dex gave him a look.

“What?” Eric asked. He smoothed down the front of his shirt again, a little self-conscious.

“I thought you were supposed to get past the sickeningly sweet puppy love stage after like six months,” Dex said with a shrug, before leading the way down the hallway with long strides. Eric gaped at his back for a moment, sputtering wordlessly as he scrambled to catch up.

“We are not sickeningly sweet,” Eric said as soon as he found his voice.

“Oh, Jack.” Dex batted his eyelashes in an exaggerated and stilted mockery, hands clasped to his chest. “You’re the sweetest, most perfect man that’s ever lived and I just love you so, so much.”

Eric swatted him as they piled into the elevator together.

“I do not sound like that,” he said primly.

“That’s actually a direct quote,” Dex deadpanned.

Eric flushed so deeply that he had to put both of his hands to his face to calm himself. After he had collected himself, he looked back over to Dex who was smirking back at him.

“How’s Ontario?” Eric asked, flailing for a new subject.

Dex’s mouth fell momentarily into a frown before he shrugged.

“California blows,” Dex offered after a minute of thought. “The guys I’ve met so far have been alright though, I guess.”

“I’m sure it’ll grow on you,” Eric said. “Training camp starts in a few weeks, right?”

Dex nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets again as they stepped out of the elevator and headed toward Chowder’s suite.

“Going back home for the rest of August and then coming back when camp starts,” he said after a long minute. “I just came down so early to find a place to live and stuff, but, uh...it turns out Nursey is heading to UCLA this September, so we might end up bunking together, maybe. Not sure yet. We’d have to find a place somewhere that we could both drive from.”

“Right,” Eric said, trying to hide his surprise. The last he’d heard, Nursey had been headed to Brown for his Master’s, which was decidedly not in Los Angeles. Before he could ask, they reached Chowder’s cracked open suite door and Dex pushed their way in. Eric walked in behind him to find what looked like the aftermath of an earthquake inside with Chowder at the center of the destruction, digging through piles of clothes, hair askew.

“Good Lord, boys, what happened in here?” Eric asked in horror as he looked around. Nursey was perched on one of the beds, sipping a glass of Cabernet casually, as if he wasn’t surrounded by chaos. He tipped it in Eric’s direction.

“Yo, Bits,” Nursey said. “You want some?”

“Bitty!” Chowder wailed before collapsing onto the other bed. “I lost my cufflinks! I can’t find them and I’ve looked everywhere. What are we gonna do? I can’t get married without cufflinks.”

Dex snorted from behind Eric and Eric shot him a look before producing the two silver cufflinks from his pocket and holding them out to Chowder.

“Jack is going to let you borrow his for the night,” Eric said as Chowder looked at them with wide eyes.

“Jack?” Chowder asked, looking as though he might burst into tears at the sight of the borrowed cufflinks. “He’s letting me…? Jack?”

“C, my man,” Nursey laughed. “Are you broken permanently or is this temporary?”

“Be nice,” Eric said. “He’s getting married in four hours.”

“So, crisis averted, right?” Dex asked, clearing his throat.

“Are you missing anything else, sweetheart?” Eric asked Chowder. Chowder had taken the cufflinks from him and was gently cradling them against his chest.

“No,” Chowder said. He shook his head after a quick look around the room. “I think that’s all.”

Eric sighed in relief and flopped down on the bed next to Nursey. Unprompted, Nursey leaned over and poured him a glass of wine. He handed it over and Eric took a big gulp, wincing a little at the strong body of the wine.

“Thanks,” Eric said.

“Gotta get that buzz going before we stand up on stage tonight, Bits,” Nursey said.

“Is it really just four hours?” Chowder asked suddenly. “Oh my God.”

“Breathe, Chowder,” Dex said.

 

—

 

They somehow made it to the small chapel on the grounds of the winery without any further mishaps and got Chowder in his tux and ready for the ceremony with time to spare. Eric took care to straighten all three of the frogs’ ties and collars, making sure they all looked up to snuff. His own tux was neatly pressed and nearly picture perfect, although he thought the sleeves were a little too long for his liking.

The ceremony itself was a blur to Eric. He only had to make sure the ultra-tall blonde volleyball player of a bridesmaid he walked down the aisle didn’t trip on her equally tall shoes. It was a little ridiculous that he somehow got paired with the tallest of the bridesmaids when Nursey and Dex were _right there_ , but she was lovely all the same and extremely thankful when Eric had conjured a safety pin for her dress at the last minute.

He had caught Jack’s eye as he took his place beside Nursey at the altar and had been rushed with warmth to find Jack solely focused on him even as the ceremony began. He hoped his blush wasn’t noticeable to anyone else, but the way Jack had smiled back at him, Eric knew he had, at least, had noticed. Then Shitty had elbowed Jack and Jack had flushed too, which sent Eric into a different kind of tailspin. He barely even heard the vows.

After they were finally released from wedding party photos, Eric found Jack easily in the diminishing crowd at the chapel. Most everyone had already gone back to the hotel for the reception and only a few people remained as the wedding party posed for endless pictures. Jack took his hand and kissed the side of his head as soon as Eric was in range.

“You did great,” Jack said.

Eric let out a breath of unexpected laughter at the praise.

“I didn’t exactly have that many lines to remember,” he joked.

Jack shrugged as he threw a possessive arm around Eric and steered him to the well-trodden path lit by fairy lights that would take them back to the hotel. Eric snuggled closer to him as they walked, even though the California air was thick and muggy and he could already feel beads of sweat running down his back.

“You still did great,” Jack assured him.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Eric said, squeezing Jack’s waist lightly.

The walk back to the hotel was comfortable and quiet with quiet pockets of conversations floating around them as they made their way back with other scattered parties.

“Remember we don’t have to stay all night, okay?” Eric said as they reached the reception at last. “Just let me know when you’re ready to go and we can head upstairs.”

“Bits, enjoy yourself,” Jack said. “We can stay as long as you want.”

“Just tell me though, okay?” Eric said.

“Okay, bud,” Jack said quietly before letting his arm fall from Eric’s shoulder and taking his hand instead.  

The moment they stepped into the ballroom, they were swept into the crowd, with former teammates and other friends all vying for Eric’s attention. Jack held his hand and participated in the conversation for an hour or so before Eric got dragged onto the dancefloor and Jack begged off to go sit at their table and watch instead.

“You will absolutely be getting on this dancefloor at some point tonight, Mr. Zimmermann!” Eric called after him, even as Chowder and Caitlin dragged him deeper onto the dancefloor. Jack smiled and waved before turning around and disappearing to one of the banquet tables. Eric turned back to the newly married couple and laughed as Chowder showed off his dance moves to the delight of the crowd around them. He stepped a little closer to Caitlin as they watched together, laughing at the groom.

“So, are you guys all ready to move to Calgary?” Eric asked over the music.

Caitlin nodded with a grin. Chowder had been signed just a month after their season ended to be a second back-up goalie in Calgary and had enthusiastically taken up the mantle.

“Oh yeah, everyone up there has been great!” she said. “They set us up in a building with a lot of the other younger players and their wives and I met a few already. Seems like a good bunch and Chris is so thrilled.”

“I’ve never been that far north,” Eric said, pitching his voice louder as the music pulsed around them.

“Me neither! Not until Chris got signed and we flew up there for a week after graduation,” Caitlin said. “I’m a little nervous about winter, but we’ll make it work.”

“I’m so glad it’s worked out,” Eric said. “I always knew he’d get signed after college, but it’s such a great placement, you know?”

“Yes!” Caitlin said, looking as relieved as Eric felt. “I think the only thing that would have been better is if Dex had somehow landed nearby. But you know, Nursey is gonna be in L.A. too, so with Dex in Ontario, they can all still see each other occasionally.”

“Exactly,” Eric said and patted her on the arm. He was about to say something more when one of the bridesmaids whisked Caitlin away to set up the bouquet toss. He was left with the frogs and some of his other former teammates, mixing in with them and talking until he lost all track of time. Jack found him once or twice in the night, smiling and shaking hands with friends, but Eric lost him again when Shitty threw an arm around Jack and walked him toward the open bar.

Late in the night, Eric found himself leaning against the wall with Ransom and Holster, catching up. They had only just flown in that afternoon and Eric hadn’t had a chance to see them before the ceremony had begun since he’d been so busy with his groomsmen duties and making sure Chowder didn’t have a meltdown before the wedding.

“So, do you just hang out with Kent Parson on the reg, now, bro?” Holster asked. When Eric opened his mouth to deny it, Holster wagged a finger at him, cutting him off. “No way, Bitty, we’ve all seen the Instagram pictures of you petting his cat. Don’t even fucking deny it.”

“He’s Jack’s friend,” Eric said, holding up his hands to indicate his innocence. “We were just visiting this week because it seemed silly to come all the way out here and not also stop in Vegas to see him.”

“How come everyone else gets to meet Kent Parson, but Rans and I are left out in the fucking cold, man?” Holster whined.

“You live in New York, Holster!” Eric said. “It’s not exactly a day trip for you to come down to a game when he’s in town.”

Holster sighed and Ransom snickered, slapping Holster on the arm.

“We could make it work,” Holster grumbled.

“Yo, Bits,” Ransom said, looking thoughtful. “Is Parson friends with Alexei Mashkov on the Falcs at all? Because like, if so….”

“Unbelievable,” Eric said. “This is why neither of you get invited.”

“Betrayal of the first order, Bitty!” Holster yelled.

Eventually the conversation turned to their summers beyond the wedding and Eric excitedly told them about his new webseries that he’d finished scripting the week before and would start production on when he returned. Alicia Zimmermann had tweeted out a link to one of his more recent vlogs and things had moved quickly after that, with a young producer contacting him about filming a short webseries about cooking and food in college only days later. Eric had been easily won over by the producer who had binged all of Eric’s baking vlogs and enthusiastically recounted his favorite episodes to Eric before even pitching the new webseries idea and promising it would wrap production before the pre-season started so it wouldn’t interfere much with hockey.

“I think I might even be able to sneak Jack into a few of the episodes,” he explained to Ransom and Holster. “Y’know, to do his whole ‘you can still eat healthy in college and cafeteria food is no excuse’ spiel, but like a little less scary than the one he did for us.”

Holster’s laugh boomed through the reception area, drawing looks from several other guests.

“Bro,” Holster said. “Please put him on the episode where you do your magic microwave baking tricks, because I want to make gifs of his reaction to your brownie mug concoctions.”

Eric nodded furiously.

“Consider it done,” he promised seriously. “I’ve been buttering him up all summer basically in preparation. I just have to make sure he doesn’t schedule a practice or something during filming week so he doesn’t have any excuses to get out of it.”

“Practice? Is he playing?” Ransom perked up.

“Oh,” Eric laughed and then leaned a little closer to Ransom. “No, not really. Way cuter, actually. Jack’s been coaching pee-wee hockey down at the rec center since last month. It’s adorable. Here, I have pictures.”

He opened up his phone and navigated to a bookmarked album of Jack on the ice with little kids who barely made it past his knees. He handed the phone over to Ransom who practically cooed before passing it over to Holster.

“Bro, that’s cute as fuck,” Ransom confirmed.

“I know,” Eric sighed. He searched for Jack in the crowd and found his tall, dark head at their table, alone, but happily people-watching. He smiled at the picture that Jack made and, checking the time on his phone as Holster passed it back, decided to have mercy on Jack. It was nearly eleven and well past when Jack normally went to bed, so Eric knew he was only at the party still because Eric wasn’t done talking.

“I’m gonna go,” Eric announced to his friends.

“Bro, it’s early,” Holster said. “Stay a little longer.”

“I’ll see you both tomorrow at brunch,” Eric said, standing up from the table and grabbing his jacket from the chair. “Have a good night, boys.”

“Biiiits,” Holster pleaded, trying to grab at him but not quite reaching far enough in his drunken state. Eric easily dodged him. Ransom punched Holster in the arm again.

“Bro, he’s gonna go get laid,” Ransom whispered in a terrible attempt at subtlety. Holster’s entire face re-arranged itself and he smiled wolfishly at Eric.

“Bro,” he said. “You definitely should go get laid.”

“Oh my God,” Eric said, rolling his eyes. “Make sure he doesn’t hurt himself, Rans.”

Ransom saluted him with a wink.

“I’m on it, man,” he said.

“See you in the morning,” Eric repeated before setting his sights back on Jack across the room. He weaved his way through the crowd and by the time he approached, Jack had spotted him and was smiling softly at him.

“Hey, Bits,” he said as Eric sank into the chair beside him.

“Hey, yourself,” Eric said. “You ready to go?”

“You looked like you were still having a nice time,” Jack said instead of answering the question.

“I was,” Eric said. “But now I think I just want to get upstairs with you.”

“Oh?” Jack asked. A sly smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah,” Eric sighed. “That okay with you?”

“Mmm,” Jack said. “I might need to be talked into it.”

Eric laughed and stood up, grabbing both of Jack’s hand and dragging him to his feet as well.

“I better get started then,” Eric said. “I know it’s already past your bedtime, honey.”

Eric threaded his fingers through Jack’s and led the way through the crowd, waving to friends as they went along, but not stopping long enough for anyone to engage them. The moment the elevator doors closed behind them, Jack wrapped himself around Eric and kissed him, pressing him up against the mirrored wall of the elevator.

“I thought you needed to be talked into it,” Eric whispered.

Jack playfully groped at Eric’s butt, squeezing it tightly before kissing him again.

“Maybe not,” Jack said with a shrug. The elevator announced their arrival and the doors opened to a startled couple of tourists who blinked at Jack and Eric’s obvious disarray. Eric blushed but Jack easily pushed him out of the elevator and down the hallway until the tourists were far behind them. Eric laughed a little breathlessly as Jack pulled out their room key and slid it into the door.

“Why do I suddenly feel like a teenager out past curfew with my secret boyfriend?” Eric asked.

Jack grinned at him and winked before opening the hotel room and letting Eric in before him.

“Secret boyfriend, eh?” Jack asked as he closed the door and leaned against it. Eric crowded into his space, loosening Jack’s tie and pulling it over his head to throw into the open closet next to them. He started on Jack’s shirt buttons next.

“Mmhmm,” Eric said. “Very illicit, lots of sneaking around.”

Jack laughed as Eric continued to undress him, stealing kisses as he walked them backwards to the bed. Eric fell back onto the bed as soon as his knees made contact and he pulled Jack with him with a grunt. Jack braced himself above Eric with one arm and smiled down at him. His shirt gaped open from where Eric had already started on the buttons and Eric slid his hands inside it to tug Jack’s undershirt free and get his hands on the warm skin underneath.

“I don’t know if we would be very good at sneaking,” Jack murmured as he leaned down to kiss his way along Eric’s jaw.

“Probably not,” Eric agreed. “Everyone would be on to us.”

Jack laughed, his breath tickling Eric’s neck. His large hands were hot even through the silky fabric of Eric’s dress shirt and Eric desperately wanted to them be on his bare skin instead. Jack seemed to be in no particular hurry though. He was looking down at Eric now with a dopey, loose smile and Eric returned it, reaching up to trace the outline of Jack’s lips with his fingers.

“What?” Eric asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing,” Jack said, shaking his head, and then seeming to reconsider, he ducked his head a little. “It’s just that I never thought I would have something like this. That I could be this happy.”

Eric was glad he was already horizontal because if he had been standing, his knees might have buckled at the pure sweetness of Jack’s words. Instead, he tugged Jack down so Jack was forced to roll off of him and lay down beside him. Eric kissed him softly, his lips lingering against Jack’s for a long moment.

“Well, well, don’t weddings just turn you into the biggest sap, Mr. Zimmermann,” Eric said. He might have been trying for a chirp, but instead it came out breathless and happy. He sank against the pillow and Jack cuddled closer, his arm pulling Eric snug against him.

“Maybe they do,” Jack conceded. “But only because they make me think about how wonderful it would be to have something like that with you.”

“Jack,” Eric breathed. His fingers curled into Jack’s shirt, wrinkling it in his fist. “Warn a boy next time.”

“Sorry, too much?” Jack asked, pulling away a bit from Eric. Eric quickly tugged him back, pressing his mouth against Jack’s, feeling needy and warm all over.

“Never too much,” Eric said. “Never, Jack.”

Jack relaxed beside him and his fingers gently ran through Eric’s tousled hair, pushing it back. His face was soft and tired, lit only by the dim lights coming through the hotel curtains, but Eric couldn’t remember a time he’d thought that Jack looked more handsome or a time he’d felt more in love. He said so and Jack blushed lightly before pulling himself as close as possible to Eric, pressing their bodies together and tangling their legs even as he kicked off his shoes. Eric did the same and peeled off Jack’s shirt while he was it, letting his hands spread out on Jack’s bare chest.

“I mean it,” Jack murmured after a moment of urgent, searching kisses against Eric’s exposed collarbone and lips.

“Hmm?’ Eric hummed, already feeling a little dazed by Jack’s proximity and the warm halo of wine that had been with him most of the day. He buried his fingers in Jack’s thick hair and pulled down for another few kisses while Jack slowly undressed him with careful, precise fingers.

“That I want to marry you,” Jack said, his mouth still so close to Eric’s that Eric felt the words being formed against his own lips. He sank back into the pillow and stared up at Jack, almost overwhelmed with feeling.

“I know,” Eric said finally, when his voice returned to him. “I want that too.”

“Good,” Jack said and Eric had to laugh a little at his almost curt response. Jack smiled and laughed too, the seriousness of the moment floating away from them just as suddenly as it had appeared.

“I do have one condition, though,” Eric said, trying his best to hold a straight face.

“What’s that?”

“We have to have pie at the reception.”

 

\--

**THE END.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooooo, I can't believe this is actually the end, you guys. This story took so much longer than originally planned because of tumultuous life events (that just keep happening??), so thank you for sticking in there no matter when you came aboard! 
> 
> Did you like the story? Please let me know!! Your reviews are really special and encouraging to me and I appreciate them deeply.


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